r 


FAITH  OF  MEN 


BY 

JACK  LONDON 

AUTHOR    OF 
"THE  SEA   WOLF,"   "WHITE   FANG," 

"VALLEY  OF  THE  MOON," 
"BURNING  DAYLIGHT,"  ETC.,  ETC. 


Jtfew  fork 
THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

LONDON  :  MACMILLAN  &  Co.,  LTD. 

1919 

All  rights   r as*  r >*'<.• 


COPYRIGHT,  1^04, 
BY  THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY. 


Set  up  and  electrotyped.     Published  April,  1904.    Reprinted 
June,  August,  September,  1904. 


T35 
#f1 

W/f/AJ 


A  RELIC  OF  THE  PLIOCENE 


434449 


A    RELIC    OF   THE   PLIOCENE1 

I  WASH  my  hands  of  him  at  the  start. 
I  cannot  father  his  tales,  nor  will  I  be 
responsible  for  them.  I  make  these  pre 
liminary  reservations,  observe,  as  a  guard  upon 
my  own  integrity.  I  possess  a  certain  definite 
position  in  a  small  way,  also  a  wife ;  and  for 
the  good  name  of  the  community  that  hon 
ors  my  existence  with  its  approval,  and  for 
the  sake  of  her  posterity  and  mine,  I  cannot 
take  the  chances  I  once  did,  nor  foster  proba 
bilities  with  the  careless  improvidence  of  youth. 
So,  I  repeat,  I  wash  my  hands  of  him,  this 
Nimrod,  this  mighty  hunter,  this  homely,  blue- 
eyed,  freckle-faced  Thomas  Stevens. 

Having  been  honest  to  myself,  and  to  what 
ever  prospective  olive  branches  my  wife  may 
be  pleased  to  tender  me,  I  can  now  afford  to 

1  Copyright,  1900,  by  P.  F.  Collier  &  Son. 


;OF   THE   PLIOCENE 

be  generous.  I  shall  not  criticise  the  tales 
told  me  by  Thomas  Stevens,  and,  further,  I 
shall  withhold  my  judgment.  If  it  be  asked 
why,  I  can  only  add  that  judgment  I  have 
none.  Long  have  I  pondered,  weighed,  and 
balanced,  but  never  have  my  conclusions  been 
twice  the  same  —  forsooth  !  because  Thomas 
Stevens  is  a  greater  man  than  I.  If  he  have 
told  truths,  well  and  good ;  if  untruths,  still 
well  and  good.  For  who  can  prove?  or  who 
disprove  ?  I  eliminate  myself  from  the  propo 
sition,  while  those  of  little  faith  may  do  as  I 
have  done  —  go  find  the  said  Thomas  Stevens, 
and  discuss  to  his  face  the  various  matters  which, 
if  fortune  serve,  I  shall  relate.  As  to  where 
he  may  be  found  ?  The  directions  are  simple  : 
anywhere  between  53  north  latitude  and  the 
Pole,  on  the  one  hand ;  and,  on  the  other,  the 
likeliest  hunting  grounds  that  lie  between 
the  east  coast  of  Siberia  and  farthermost  Lab 
rador.  That  he  is  there,  somewhere,  within 
that  clearly  defined  territory,  I  pledge  the 
word  of  an  honorable  man  whose  expecta 
tions  entail  straight  speaking  and  right  living. 


A   RELIC   OF   THE    PLIOCENE          5 

Thomas  Stevens  may  have  toyed  prodi 
giously  with  truth,  but  when  we  first  met  (it 
were  well  to  mark  this  point),  he  wandered 
into  my  camp  when  I  thought  myself  a  thou 
sand  miles  beyond  the  outermost  post  of  civ 
ilization.  At  the  sight  of  his  human  face,  the 
first  in  weary  months,  I  could  have  sprung 
forward  and  folded  him  in  my  arms  (and  I 
am  not  by  any  means  a  demonstrative  man) ; 
but  to  him  his  visit  seemed  the  most  casual 
thing  under  the  sun.  He  just  strolled  into 
the  light  of  my  camp,  passed  the  time  of  day 
after  the  custom  of  men  on  beaten  trails,  threw 
my  snowshoes  the  one  way  and  a  couple  of 
dogs  the  other,  and  so  made  room  for  him 
self  by  the  fire.  Said  he'd  just  dropped  in 
to  borrow  a  pinch  of  soda  and  to  see  if  I 
had  any  decent  tobacco.  He  plucked  forth 
an  ancient  pipe,  loaded  it  with  painstaking 
care,  and,  without  as  much  as  by  your  leave, 
whacked  half  the  tobacco  of  my  pouch  into 
his.  Yes,  the  stuff  was  fairly  good.  He 
sighed  with  the  contentment  of  the  just,  and 
literally  absorbed  the  smoke  from  the  crisping 


6          A    RELIC    OF   THE    PLIOCENE 

yellow  flakes,  and  it  did  my  smoker's  heart 
good  to  behold  him. 

Hunter?  Trapper?  Prospector?  He 
shrugged  his  shoulders  No ;  just  sort  of 
knocking  round  a  bit.  Had  come  up  from 
the  Great  Slave  some  time  since,  and  was 
thinking  of  trapsing  over  into  the  Yukon 
country.  The  Factor  of  Koshim  had  spoken 
about  the  discoveries  on  the  Klondike,  and  he 
was  of  a  mind  to  run  over  for  a  peep.  T 
noticed  that  he  spoke  of  the  Klondike  in  the 
archaic  vernacular,  calling  it  the  Reindeer 
River  —  a  conceited  custom  that  the  Old 
Timers  employ  against  the  che-cha-quas  and 
all  tenderfeet  in  general.  But  he  did  it  so 
naively  and  as  such  a  matter  of  course,  that 
there  was  no  sting,  and  I  forgave  him.  He 
also  had  it  in  view,  he  said,  before  he  crossed 
the  divide  into  the  Yukon,  to  make  a  little 
run  up  Fort  o*  Good  Hope  way. 

Now  Fort  o'  Good  Hope  is  a  far  journey 
to  the  north,  over  and  beyond  the  Circle,  in 
a  place  where  the  feet  of  few  men  have  trod ; 
and  when  a  nondescript  ragamuffin  comes  in 


A    RELIC    OF   THE    PLIOCENE          7 

out  of  the  night,  from  nowhere  in  particular, 
to  sit  by  one's  fire  and  discourse  on  such  in 
terms  of  "  trapsing  "  and  "  a  little  run,"  it  is 
fair  time  to  rouse  up  and  shake  off  the  dream. 
Wherefore  I  looked  about  me ;  saw  the  fly, 
and,  underneath,  the  pine  boughs  spread  for 
the  sleeping  furs ;  saw  the  grub  sacks,  the 
camera,  the  frosty  breaths  of  the  dogs  circling 
on  the  edge  of  the  light ;  and,  above,  a  great 
streamer  of  the  aurora  bridging  the  zenith  from 
southeast  to  northwest.  I  shivered.  There 
is  a  magic  in  the  Northland  night,  that  steals 
in  on  one  like  fevers  from  malarial  marshes. 
You  are  clutched  and  downed  before  you  are 
aware.  Then  I  looked  to  the  snowshoes, 
lying  prone  and  crossed  where  he  had  flung 
them.  Also  I  had  an  eye  to  my  tobacco 
pouch.  Half,  at  least,  of  its  goodly  store 
had  vamosed.  That  settled  it.  Fancy  had 
not  tricked  me  after  all. 

Crazed  with  suffering,  I  thought,  looking 
steadfastly  at  the  man  —  one  of  those  wild 
stampeders,  strayed  far  from  his  bearings  and 
wandering  like  a  lost  soul  through  great  vast- 


8          A    RELIC   OF   THE    PLIOCENE 

nesses  and  unknown  deeps.     Oh,  well,  let  his 
moods  slip  on,  until,  mayhap,  he  gathers  his 
tangled   wits    together.     Who    knows  ?  —  the 
mere  sound   of  a   fellow-creature's  voice   mayi 
bring  all  straight  again. 

So  I  led  him  on  in  talk,  and  soon  I  mar 
velled,  for  he  talked  of  game  and  the  ways 
thereof.  He  had  killed  the  Siberian  wolf  of 
westernmost  Alaska,  and  the  chamois  in  the 
secret  Rockies.  He  averred  he  knew  the 
haunts  where  the  last  buffalo  still  roamed ; 
that  he  had  hung  on  the  flanks  of  the  caribou 
when  they  ran  by  the  hundred  thousand,  and 
slept  in  the  Great  Barrens  on  the  musk-ox's 
winter  trail. 

And  I  shifted  my  judgment  accordingly  (the 
first  revision,  but  by  no  account  the  last),  and 
deemed  him  a  monumental  effigy  of  truth. 
Why  it  was  I  know  not,  but  the  spirit  moved 
me  to  repeat  a  tale  told  to  me  by  a  man  who 
had  dwelt  in  the  land  too  long  to  know  better. 
It  was  of  the  great  bear  that  hugs  the  steep 
slopes  of  St.  Elias,  never  descending  to  the 
levels  of  the  gentler  inclines.  Now  God  so 


A    RELIC    OF   THE    PLIOCENE          9 

constituted  this  creature  for  its  hillside  habitat 
that  the  legs  of  one  side  are  all  of  a  foot  longer 
than  those  of  the  other.  This  is  mighty  con 
venient,  as  will  be  readily  admitted.  So  I 
hunted  this  rare  beast  in  my  own  name,  told 
it  in  the  first  person,  present  tense,  painted  the 
requisite  locale,  gave  it  the  necessary  garnish- 
ings  and  touches  of  verisimilitude,  and  looked 
to  see  the  man  stunned  by  the  recital. 

Not  he.  Had  he  doubted,  I  could  have 
forgiven  him.  Had  he  objected,  denying  the 
dangers  of  such  a  hunt  by  virtue  of  the 
animal's  inability  to  turn  about  and  go 
the  other  way  —  had  he  done  this,  I  say,  I 
could  have  taken  him  by  the  hand  for  the 
true  sportsman  that  he  was.  Not  he.  He 
sniffed,  looked  on  me,  and  sniffed  again ;  then 
gave  my  tobacco  due  praise,  thrust  one  foot 
into  my  lap,  and  bade  me  examine  the  gear. 
It  was  a  mucluc  of  the  Innuit  pattern,  sewed 
together  with  sinew  threads,  and  devoid  of 
beads  or  furbelows.  But  it  was  the  skin 
itself  that  was  remarkable.  In  that  it  was  all 
of  half  an  inch  thick,  it  reminded  me  of 


io        A    RELIC   OF   THE    PLIOCENE 

walrus-hide ;  but  there  the  resemblance  ceased, 
for  no  walrus  ever  bore  so  marvellous  a  growth 
of  hair.  On  the  side  and  ankles  this  hair  was 
well-nigh  worn  away,  what  of  friction  with 
underbrush  and  snow ;  but  around  the  top  and 
down  the  more  sheltered  back  it  was  coarse, 
dirty  black,  and  very  thick.  I  parted  it  with 
difficulty  and  looked  beneath  for  the  fine  fur 
that  is  common  with  northern  animals,  bt'.t 
found  it  in  this  case  to  be  absent.  This,  how 
ever,  was  compensated  for  by  the  length. 
Indeed,  the  tufts  that  had  survived  wear 
and  tear  measured  all  of  seven  or  eight  inches. 

I  looked  up  into  the  man's  face,  and  he 
pulled  his  foot  down  and  asked,  "  Find  hide 
like  that  on  your  St.  Elias  bear?" 

I  shook  my  head.  "  Nor  on  any  other 
creature  of  land  or  sea,"  I  answered  candidly. 
The  thickness  of  it,  and  the  length  of  the 
hair,  puzzled  me. 

"That,"  he  said,  and  said  without  the 
slightest  hint  of  impressiveness,  "that  came 
from  a  mammoth." 

"  Nonsense  !  "  I  exclaimed,  for  I  could  not 


A   RELIC    OF   THE    PLIOCENE        n 

forbear  the  protest  of  my  unbelief.  "  The 
mammoth,  my  dear  sir,  long  ago  vanished 
from  the  earth.  We  know  it  once  existed 
by  the  fossil  remains  that  we  have  unearthed, 
and  by  a  frozen  carcass  that  the  Siberian 
sun  saw  fit  to  melt  from  out  the  bosom  of  a 
glacier;  but  we  also  know  that  no  living 
specimen  exists.  Our  explorers  —  " 

At  this  word  he  broke  in  impatiently. 
"  Your  explorers  ?  Pish  !  A  weakly  breed. 
Let  us  hear  no  more  of  them.  But  tell  me, 
O  man,  what  you  may  know  of  the  mammoth 
and  his  ways." 

Beyond  contradiction,  this  was  leading  to  a 
yarn ;  so  I  baited  my  hook  by  ransacking  my 
memory  for  whatever  data  I  possessed  on  the 
subject  in  hand.  To  begin  with,  I  emphasized 
that  the  animal  was  prehistoric,  and  marshalled 
all  my  facts  in  support  of  this.  I  mentioned 
the  Siberian  sand  bars  that  abounded  with 
ancient  mammoth  bones ;  spoke  of  the  large 
quantities  of  fossil  ivory  purchased  from  the 
Innuits  by  the  Alaska  Commercial  Company ; 
and  i  acknowledged  having  myself  mined  six- 


12       A   RELIC   OF   THE   PLIOCENE 

and  eight-foot  tusks  from  the  pay  gravel  of  the 
Klondike  creeks.  "  All  fossils/'  I  concluded, 
"found  in  the  midst  of  debris  deposited 
through  countless  ages." 

"  I  remember  when  I  was  a  kid,"  Thomas 
Stevens  sniffed  (he  had  a  most  confounded 
way  of  sniffing),  "  that  I  saw  a  petrified 
watermelon.  Hence,  though  mistaken  persons 
sometimes  delude  themselves  into  thinking 
that  they  are  really  raising  or  eating  them, 
there  are  no  such  things  as  extant  water 
melons." 

"  But  the  question  of  food,"  I  objected, 
ignoring  his  point,  which  was  puerile  and 
without  bearing.  "  The  soil  must  bring  forth 
vegetable  life  in  lavish  abundance  to  support 
so  monstrous  creations.  Nowhere  in  the 
North  is  the  soil  so  prolific.  Ergo,  the 
mammoth  cannot  exist." 

"  I  pardon  your  ignorance  concerning  many 
matters  of  this  Northland,  for  you  are  a  young 
man  and  have  travelled  little ;  but,  at  the  same 
time,  I  am  inclined  to  agree  with  you  on  one 
thing.  The  mammoth  no  longer  exists. 


A    RELIC    OF   THE    PLIOCENE        13 

How  do  I  know  ?  I  killed  the  last  one  with 
my  own  right  arm." 

Thus  spake  Nimrod,  the  Mighty  Hunter. 
I  threw  a  stick  of  firewood  at  the  dogs  and 
bade  them  quit  their  unholy  howling,  and 
waited.  Undoubtedly  this  liar  of  singular 
felicity  would  open  his  mouth  and  requite  me 
for  my  St.  Elias  bear. 

"It  was  this  way,"  he  at  last  began,  after 
the  appropriate  silence  had  intervened.  "  I 
was  in  camp  one  day  — " 

"  Where  ?  "  I  interrupted. 

He  waved  his  hand  vaguely  in  the  direction 
of  the  northeast,  where  stretched  a  terra  incog 
nita  into  which  vastness  few  men  have  strayed 
and  fewer  emerged.  "  I  was  in  camp  one  day 
with  Klooch.  Klooch  was  as  handsome  a 
little  kamooks  as  ever  whined  betwixt  the  traces 
or  shoved  nose  into  a  camp  kettle.  Her  father 
was  a  full-blood  Malemute  from  Russian  Pas- 
tilik  on  Bering  Sea,  and  I  bred  her,  and  with 
understanding,  out  of  a  clean-legged  bitch  of 
the  Hudson  Bay  stock.  I  tell  you,  O  man, 
she  was  a  corker  combination.  And  now,  on 


i4        A    RELIC    OF   THE    PLIOCENE 

this  day  I  have  in  mind,  she  was  brought  to 
pup  through  a  pure  wild  wolf  of  the  woods  — 
gray,  and  long  of  limb,  with  big  lungs  and  no 
end  of  staying  powers.  Say  !  Was  there  ever 
the  like  ?  It  was  a  new  breed  of  dog  I  had 
started,  and  I  could  look  forward  to  big  things. 
"  As  I  have  said,  she  was  brought  neatly  to 
pup,  and  safely  delivered.  I  was  squatting  on 
my  hams  over  the  litter  —  seven  sturdy,  blind 
little  beggars  —  when  from  behind  came  a  bray 
of  trumpets  and  crash  of  brass.  There  was  a 
rush,  like  the  wind-squall  that  kicks  the 
heels  of  the  rain,  and  I  was  midway  to  my 
feet  when  knocked  flat  on  my  face.  At  the 
same  instant  I  heard  Klooch  sigh,  very  much 
as  a  man  does  when  youVe  planted  your  fist 
in  his  belly.  You  can  stake  your  sack  I  lay 
quiet,  but  I  twisted  my  head  around  and  saw 
a  huge  bulk  swaying  above  me.  Then  the 
blue  sky  flashed  into  view  and  I  got  to  my 
feet.  A  hairy  mountain  of  flesh  was  just  dis 
appearing  in  the  underbrush  on  the  edge  of 
the  open.  I  caught  a  rear-end  glimpse,  with 
a  stiff"  tail,  as  big  in  girth  as  my  body,  standing 


A   RELIC    OF    THE   PLIOCENE        15 

out  straight  behind.  The  next  second  only  a 
tremendous  hole  remained  in  the  thicket, 
though  I  could  still  hear  the  sounds  as  of  a 
tornado  dying  quickly  away,  underbrush  rip 
ping  and  tearing,  and  trees  snapping  and 
crashing. 

"  I  cast  about  for  my  rifle.  It  had  been 
lying  on  the  ground  with  the  muzzle  against 
a  log ;  but  now  the  stock  was  smashed,  the 
barrel  out  of  line,  and  the  working-gear  in  a 
thousand  bits.  Then  I  looked  for  the  slut, 
and  —  and  what  do  you  suppose  ?  " 

I  shook  my  head. 

"  May  my  soul  burn  in  a  thousand  hells  if 
there  was  anything  left  of  her!  Klooch,  the 
seven  sturdy,  blind  little  beggars  —  gone,  all 
gone.  Where  she  had  stretched  was  a  slimy, 
bloody  depression  in  the  soft  earth,  all  of  a 
yard  in  diameter,  and  around  the  edges  a  few 
scattered  hairs." 

I  measured  three  feet  on  the  snow,  threw 
about  it  a  circle,  and  glanced  at  Nimrod. 

"  The  beast  was  thirty  long  and  twenty 
high,"  he  answered,  "  and  its  tusks  scaled 


16        A   RELIC    OF   THE    PLIOCENE 

over  six  times  three  feet.  I  couldn't  believe, 
myself,  at  the  time,  for  all  that  it  had  just 
happened.  But  if  my  senses  had  played  me, 
there  was  the  broken  gun  and  the  hole  in  the 
brush.  And  there  was  —  or,  rather,  there  was 
not —  Klooch  and  the  pups.  O  man,  it  makes 
me  hot  all  over  now  when  I  think  of  it. 
Klooch  !  Another  Eve  !  The  mother  of  a 
new  race !  And  a  rampaging,  ranting,  old 
bull  mammoth,  like  a  second  flood,  wiping 
them,  root  and  branch,  off  the  face  of  the 
earth !  Do  you  wonder  that  the  blood-soaked 
earth  cried  out  to  high  God  ?  Or  that  I  grabbed 
the  hand-axe  and  took  the  trail  ?  " 

"  The  hand-axe  ?  "  I  exclaimed,  startled  out 
of  myself  by  the  picture.  "  The  hand-axe, 
and  a  big  bull  mammoth,  thirty  feet  long, 
twenty  feet  —  " 

Nimrod  joined  me  in  my  merriment,  chuck 
ling  gleefully.  "  Wouldn't  it  kill  you  P  "  he 
cried.  "  Wasn't  it  a  beaver's  dream  ?  Many's 
the  time  I've  laughed  about  it  since,  but  at 
the  time  it  was  no  laughing  matter,  I  was  that 
danged  mad,  what  of  the  gun  and  Klooch. 


A   RELIC    OF    THE    PLIOCENE        17 

Think  of  it,  O  man  !  A  brand-new,  unclassi 
fied,  uncopyrighted  breed,  and  wiped  out  before 
ever  it  opened  its  eyes  or  took  out  its  intention 
papers  !  Well,  so  be  it.  Life's  full  of  disap 
pointments,  and  rightly  so.  Meat  is  best  after 
a  famine,  and  a  bed  soft  after  a  hard  trail. 

"  As  I  was  saying,  I  took  out  after  the 
beast  with  the  hand-axe,  and  hung  to  its 
heels  down  the  valley ;  but  when  he  circled 
back  toward  the  head,  I  was  left  winded  at  the 
lower  end.  Speaking  of  grub,  I  might  as 
well  stop  long  enough  to  explain  a  couple 
of  points.  Up  thereabouts,  in  the  midst  of 
the  mountains,  is  an  almighty  curious  forma 
tion.  There  is  no  end  of  little  valleys,  each 
like  the  other  much  as  peas  in  a  pod,  and  all 
neatly  tucked  away  with  straight,  rocky  walls 
rising  on  all  sides.  And  at  the  lower  ends 
are  always  small  openings  where  the  drainage 
or  glaciers  must  have  broken  out.  The  only 
way  in  is  through  these  mouths,  and  they  are 
all  small,  and  some  smaller  than  others.  As 
to  grub  —  you've  slushed  around  on  the  rain- 
soaked  islands  of  the  Alaskan  coast  down 


18        A   RELIC    OF   THE    PLIOCENE 

Sitka  way,  most  likely,  seeing  as  you're  a 
traveller.  And  you  know  how  stuff  grows 
there  —  big,  and  juicy,  and  jungly.  Well, 
that's  the  way  it  was  with  those  valleys. 
Thick,  rich  soil,  with  ferns  and  grasses  and 
such  things  in  patches  higher  than  your  head. 
Rain  three  days  out  of  four  during  the  sum 
mer  months  ;  and  food  in  them  for  a  thousand 
mammoths,  to  say  nothing  of  small  game  for 
man. 

"  But  to  get  back.  Down  at  the  lower 
end  of  the  valley  I  got  winded  and  gave  over. 
I  began  to  speculate,  for  when  my  wind  left 
me  my  dander  got  hotter  and  hotter,  and  I 
knew  I'd  never  know  peace  of  mind  till  I 
dined  on  roasted  mammoth-foot.  And  I  knew, 
also,  that  that  stood  for  skookum  mamook  puka- 
puk  —  excuse  Chinook,  I  mean  there  was  a  big 
fight  coming.  Now  the  mouth  of  my  valley 
was  very  narrow,  and  the  walls  steep.  High 
up  on  one  side  was  one  of  those  big  pivot 
rocks,  or  balancing  rocks,  as  some  call  them, 
weighing  all  of  a  couple  of  hundred  tons. 
Just  the  thing.  I  hit  back  for  camp,  keeping 


A   RELIC    OF   THE    PLIOCENE        19 

an  eye  open  so  the  bull  couldn't  slip  past,  and 
got  my  ammunition.  It  wasn't  worth  any 
thing  with  the  rifle  smashed ;  so  I  opened  the 
shells,  planted  the  powder  under  the  rock, 
and  touched  it  off  with  slow  fuse.  Wasn't 
much  of  a  charge,  but  the  old  boulder  tilted  up 
lazily  and  dropped  down  into  place,  with  just 
space  enough  to  let  the  creek  drain  nicely. 
Now  I  had  him." 

"  But  how  did  you  have  him  ?  "  I  queried. 
"  Who  ever  heard  of  a  man  killing  a  mam 
moth  with  a  hand-axe  ?  And,  for  that  matter, 
with  anything  else  ?  " 

"  O  man,  have  I  not  told  you  I  was  mad  ?  " 
Nimrod  replied,  with  a  slight  manifestation 
of  sensitiveness.  "  Mad  clean  through,  what 
of  Klooch  and  the  gun  ?  Also,  was  I  not 
a  hunter  ?  And  was  this  not  new  and  most 
unusual  game  ?  A  hand-axe  ?  Pish  !  I  did 
not  need  it.  Listen,  and  you  shall  hear  of 
a  hunt,  such  as  might  have  happened  in  the 
youth  of  the  world  when  caveman  rounded 
up  the  kill  with  hand-axe  of  stone.  Such 
would  have  served  me  as  well.  Now  is  it  not 


20       A   RELIC   OF   THE   PLIOCENE 

a  fact  that  man  can  outwalk  the  dog  or 
horse  ?  That  he  can  wear  them  out  with 
the  intelligence  of  his  endurance  ?  " 

I  nodded. 

"  Well  ? " 

The  light  broke  in  on  me,  and  I  bade  him 
continue. 

"  My  valley  was  perhaps  five  miles  around. 
The  mouth  was  closed.  There  was  no  way 
to  get  out.  A  timid  beast  was  that  bull 
mammoth,  and  I  had  him  at  my  mercy.  I 
got  on  his  heels  again,  hollered  like  a  fiend, 
pelted  him  with  cobbles,  and  raced  him  around 
the  valley  three  times  before  I  knocked  off 
for  supper.  Don't  you  see  ?  A  race-course  ! 
A  man  and  a  mammoth !  A  hippodrome, 
with  sun,  moon,  and  stars  to  referee ! 

"  It  took  me  two  months  to  do  it,  but  I 
did  it.  And  that's  no  beaver  dream.  Round 
and  round  I  ran  him,  me  travelling  on  the 
inner  circle,  eating  jerked  meat  and  salmon 
berries  on  the  run,  and  snatching  winks  of 
sleep  between.  Of  course,  he'd  get  desperate 
at  times  and  turn.  Then  I'd  head  for  soft 


A    RELIC    OF   THE    PLIOCENE        21 

ground  where  the  creek  spread  out,  and  lay 
anathema  upon  him  and  his  ancestry,  and  dare 
him  to  come  on.  But  he  was  too  wise  to  bog 
in  a  mud  puddle.  Once  he  pinned  me  in 
against  the  walls,  and  I  crawled  back  into 
a  deep  crevice  and  waited.  Whenever  he  felt 
for  me  with  his  trunk,  I'd  belt  him  with  the 
hand-axe  till  he  pulled  out,  shrieking  fit  to 
split  my  ear  drums,  he  was  that  mad.  He 
knew  he  had  me  and  didn't  have  me,  and  it 
near  drove  him  wild.  But  he  was  no  man's 
fool.  He  knew  he  was  safe  as  long  as  I  stayed 
in  the  crevice,  and  he  made  up  his  mind  to 
keep  me  there.  And  he  was  dead  right,  only 
he  hadn't  figured  on  the  commissary.  There 
was  neither  grub  nor  water  around  that  spot, 
so  on  the  face  of  it  he  couldn't  keep  up 
the  siege.  He'd  stand  before  the  opening  for 
hours,  keeping  an  eye  on  me  and  flapping 
mosquitoes  away  with  his  big  blanket  ears. 
Then  the  thirst  would  come  on  him  and  he'd 
ramp  round  and  roar  till  the  earth  shook,  call 
ing  me  every  name  he  could  lay  tongue  to. 
This  was  to  frighten  me,  of  course ;  and  when 


22        A    RELIC    OF   THE    PLIOCENE 

he  thought  I  was  sufficiently  impressed,  he'd 
back  away  softly  and  try  to  make  a  sneak  for 
the  creek.  Sometimes  I'd  let  him  get  almost 
there  —  only  a  couple  of  hundred  yards  away 
it  was  —  when  out  I'd  pop  and  back  he'd 
come,  lumbering  along  like  the  old  landslide 
he  was.  After  I'd  done  this  a  few  times, 
and  he'd  figured  it  out,  he  changed  his  tactics. 
Grasped  the  time  element,  you  see.  Without 
a  word  of  warning,  away  he'd  go,  tearing  for 
the  water  like  mad,  scheming  to  get  there  and 
back  before  I  ran  away.  Finally,  after  cursing 
me  most  horribly,  he  raised  the  siege  and 
deliberately  stalked  off  to  the  water  hole. 

"  That  was  the  only  time  he  penned  me,  — 
three  days  of  it,  —  but  after  that  the  hippo 
drome  never  stopped.  Round,  and  round, 
and  round,  like  a  six  days'  go-as-I -please,  for 
he  never  pleased.  My  clothes  went  to  rags 
and  tatters,  but  I  never  stopped  to  mend,  till 
at  last  I  ran  naked  as  a  son  of  earth,  with 
nothing  but  the  old  hand-axe  in  one  hand 
and  a  cobble  in  the  other.  In  fact,  I  never 
stopped,  save  for  peeps  of  sleep  in  the  crannies 


A    RELIC    OF    THE    PLIOCENE        23 

and  ledges  of  the  cliffs.  As  for  the  bull,  he 
got  perceptibly  thinner  and  thinner  —  must 
have  lost  several  tons  at  least  —  and  as  ner 
vous  as  a  schoolmarm  on  the  wrong  side  of 
matrimony.  When  I'd  come  up  with  him 
and  yell,  or  lam  him  with  a  rock  at  long 
range,  he'd  jump  like  a  skittish  colt  and 
tremble  all  over.  Then  he'd  pull  out  on 
the  run,  tail  and  trunk  waving  stiff,  head  over 
one  shoulder  and  wicked  eyes  blazing,  and  the 
way  he'd  swear  at  me  was  something  dreadful. 
A  most  immoral  beast  he  was,  a  murderer,  and 
a  blasphemer. 

"  But  toward  the  end  he  quit  all  this,  and 
fell  to  whimpering  and  crying  like  a  baby. 
His  spirit  broke  and  he  became  a  quivering 
jelly-mountain  of  misery.  He'd  get  attacks 
of  palpitation  of  the  heart,  and  stagger  around 
like  a  drunken  man,  and  fall  down  and  bark 
his  shins.  And  then  he'd  cry,  but  always 
on  the  run.  O  man,  the  gods  themselves 
would  have  wept  with  him,  and  you  yourself 
or  any  other  man.  It  was  pitiful,  and  there 
was  so  much  of  it,  but  I  only  hardened  my 


24        A    RELIC    OF    THE    PLIOCENE 

heart  and  hit  up  the  pace.  At  last  I  wore 
him  clean  out,  and  he  lay  down,  broken- 
winded,  broken-hearted,  hungry,  and  thirsty. 
When  I  found  he  wouldn't  budge,  I  ham 
strung  him,  and  spent  the  better  part  of  the 
day  wading  into  him  with  the  hand-axe,  he  a 
sniffing  and  sobbing  till  I  worked  in  far 
enough  to  shut  him  off.  Thirty  feet  long  he 
was,  and  twenty  high,  and  a  man  could  sling  a 
hammock  between  his  tusks  and  sleep  com 
fortably.  Barring  the  fact  that  I  had  run 
most  of  the  juices  out  of  him,  he  was  fair  eat 
ing,  and  his  four  feet,  alone,  roasted  whole, 
would  have  lasted  a  man  a  twelvemonth.  I 
spent  the  winter  there  myself." 

"  And  where  is  this  valley  ?  "  I  asked. 

He  waved  his  hand  in  the  direction  of  the 
northeast,  and  said :  "  Your  tobacco  is  very 
good.  I  carry  a  fair  share  of  it  in  my  pouch, 
but  I  shall  carry  the  recollection  of  it  until  I 
die.  In  token  of  my  appreciation,  and  in 
return  for  the  moccasins  on  your  own  feet,  I 
will  present  to  you  these  muclucs.  They  com 
memorate  Klooch  and  the  seven  blind  little 


A    RELIC    OF   THE    PLIOCENE        25 

beggars.  They  are  also  souvenirs  of  an  un 
paralleled  event  in  history,  namely,  the  de 
struction  of  the  oldest  breed  of  animal  on 
earth,  and  the  youngest.  And  their  chief 
virtue  lies  in  that  they  will  never  wear  out." 

Having  effected  the  exchange,  he  knocked 
the  ashes  from  his  pipe,  gripped  my  hand 
good  night,  and  wandered  off  through  the 
snow.  Concerning  this  tale,  for  which  I  have 
already  disclaimed  responsibility,  I  would 
recommend  those  of  little  faith  to  make  a 
visit  to  the  Smithsonian  Institute.  If  they 
bring  the  requisite  credentials  and  do  not  come 
in  vacation  time,  they  will  undoubtedly  gain 
an  audience  with  Professor  Dolvidson.  The 
muclucs  are  in  his  possession,  and  he  will 
verify,  not  the  manner  in  which  they  were 
obtained,  but  the  material  of  which  they  are 
composed.  When  he  states  that  they  are 
made  from  the  skin  of  the  mammoth,  the 
scientific  world  accepts  his  verdict.  What 
more  would  you  have? 


A    HYPERBOREAN    BREW 


A    HYPERBOREAN    BREW1 

THE  STORY  OF  A  SCHEMING  WHITE  MAN  AMONG 
THE  STRANGE  PEOPLE  WHO  LIVE  ON  THE 
RIM  OF  THE  ARCTIC  SEA 

THOMAS  STEVENS'S  veracity  may 
have  been  indeterminate  as  x,  and  his 
imagination  the  imagination  of  ordi 
nary  men  increased  to  the  nth  power,  but  this, 
at  least,  must  be  said :  never  did  he  deliver 
himself  of  word  nor  deed  that  could  be 
branded  as  a  lie  outright.  .  .  .  He  may  have 
played  with  probability,  and  verged  on  the 
extremest  edge  of  possibility,  but  in  his  tales 
the  machinery  never  creaked.  That  he  knew 
the  Northland  like  a  book,  not  a  soul  can 
deny.  That  he  was  a  great  traveller,  and  had 
set  foot  on  countless  unknown  trails,  many 
evidences  affirm.  Outside  of  my  own  personal 

1  Copyright,  1901,  by  the  Metropolitan  Magazine, 
29 


30  A    HYPERBOREAN    BREW 

knowledge,  I  knew  men  that  had  met  him 
everywhere,  but  principally  on  the  confines  of 
Nowhere.  There  was  Johnson,  the  ex-Hudson 
Bay  Company  factor,  who  had  housed  him  in 
a  Labrador  factory  until  his  dogs  rested  up 
a  bit,  and  he  was  able  to  strike  out  again. 
There  was  McMahon,  agent  for  the  Alaska 
Commercial  Company,  who  had  run  across 
him  in  Dutch  Harbor,  and  later  on,  among 
the  outlying  islands  of  the  Aleutian  group. 
It  was  indisputable  that  he  had  guided  one 
of  the  earlier  United  States  surveys,  and 
history  states  positively  that  in  a  similar  ca 
pacity  he  served  the  Western  Union  when  it 
attempted  to  put  through  its  trans-Alaskan 
and  Siberian  telegraph  to  Europe.  Further, 
there  was  Joe  Lamson,  the  whaling  captain, 
who,  when  ice-bound  off  the  mouth  of  the 
Mackenzie,  had  had  him  come  aboard  after 
tobacco. 

This  last  touch  proves  Thomas  Stevens's 
identity  conclusively.  His  quest  for  tobacco 
was  perennial  and  untiring.  Ere  we  became 
fairly  acquainted,  I  learned  to  greet  him  with 


A    HYPERBOREAN    BREW  31 

one  hand,  and  pass  the  pouch  with  the  other. 
But  the  night  I  met  him  in  John  O'Brien's 
Dawson  saloon,  his  head  was  wreathed  in  a 
nimbus  of  fifty-cent  cigar  smoke,  and  instead 
of  my  pouch  he  demanded  my  sack.  We 
were  standing  by  a  faro  table,  and  forthwith 
he  tossed  it  upon  the  "  high  card."  "  Fifty," 
he  said,  and  the  gamekeeper  nodded.  The 
"  high  card  "  turned,  and  he  handed  back  my 
sack,  called  for  a  "  tab,"  and  drew  me  over 
to  the  scales,  where  the  weigher  nonchalantly 
cashed  him  out  fifty  dollars  in  dust. 

"  And  now  we'll  drink,"  he  said ;  and  later, 
at  the  bar,  when  he  lowered  his  glass :  "  Re 
minds  me  of  a  little  brew  I  had  up  Tattarat 
way.  No,  you  have  no  knowledge  of  the 
place,  nor  is  it  down  on  the  charts.  But  it's 
up  by  the  rim  of  the  Arctic  Sea,  not  so  many 
hundred  miles  from  the  American  line,  and 
all  of  half  a  thousand  God-forsaken  souls  live 
there,  giving  and  taking  in  marriage,  and 
starving  and  dying  in-between-whiles.  Ex 
plorers  have  overlooked  them,  and  you  will 
not  find  them  in  the  census  of  1890.  A 


32  A   HYPERBOREAN   BREW 

whale-ship  was  pinched  there  once,  but  the 
men,  who  had  made  shore  over  the  ice,  pulled 
out  for  the  south  and  were  never  heard  of. 

"  But  it  was  a  great  brew  we  had,  Moosu 
and  I,"  he  added  a  moment  later,  with  just 
the  slightest  suspicion  of  a  sigh. 

I  knew  there  were  big  deeds  and  wild  doings 
behind  that  sigh,  so  I  haled  him  into  a  corner, 
between  a  roulette  outfit  and  a  poker  layout, 
and  waited  for  his  tongue  to  thaw. 

"  Had  one  objection  to  Moosu/'  he  began, 
cocking  his  head  meditatively  — "  one  objec 
tion,  and  only  one.  He  was  an  Indian  from 
over  on  the  edge  of  the  Chippewyan  country, 
but  the  trouble  was,  he'd  picked  up  a  smat 
tering  of  the  Scriptures.  Been  campmate  a 
season  with  a  renegade  French  Canadian  who'd 
studied  for  the  church.  Moosu'd  never  seen 
applied  Christianity,  and  his  head  was  crammed 
with  miracles,  battles,  and  dispensations,  and 
what  not  he  didn't  understand.  Otherwise 
he  was  a  good  sort,  and  a  handy  man  on 
trail  or  over  a  fire. 

"  We'd  had  a  hard  time  together  and  were 


A    HYPERBOREAN    BREW  33 

badly  knocked  out  when  we  plumped  upon 
Tattarat.  Lost  outfits  and  dogs  crossing  a 
divide  in  a  fall  blizzard,  and  our  bellies  clove 
to  our  backs  and  our  clothes  were  in  rags 
when  we  crawled  into  the  village.  They 
weren't  much  surprised  at  seeing  us  —  because 
of  the  whalemen  —  and  gave  us  the  meanest 
shack  in  the  village  to  live  in,  and  the  worst 
of  their  leavings  to  live  on.  What  struck  me 
at  the  time  as  strange  was  that  they  left  us 
strictly  alone.  But  Moosu  explained  it. 

" c  Shaman  sick  tumtumj  he  said,  meaning 
the  shaman,  or  medicine  man,  was  jealous, 
and  had  advised  the  people  to  have  nothing 
to  do  with  us.  From  the  little  he'd  seen  of 
the  whalemen,  he'd  learned  that  mine  was  a 
stronger  race,  and  a  wiser ;  so  he'd  only 
behaved  as  shamans  have  always  behaved  the 
world  over.  And  before  I  get  done,  you'll 
see  how  near  right  he  was. 

" c  These  people  have  a  law,'  said  Moosu : 
c  Whoso  eats  of  meat  must  hunt.  We  be 
awkward,  you  and  I,  O  master,  in  the  weap 
ons  of  this  country  ;  nor  can  we  string  bows 


34  A    HYPERBOREAN    BREW 

nor  fling  spears  after  the  manner  approved. 
Wherefore  the  shaman  and  Tummasook,  who 
is  chief,  have  put  their  heads  together,  and 
it  has  been  decreed  that  we  work  with  the 
women  and  children  in  dragging  in  the  meat 
and  tending  the  wants  of  the  hunters/ 

" c  And  this  is  very  wrong/  I  made  to 
answer;  c for  we  be  better  men,  Moosu,  than 
these  people  who  walk  in  darkness.  Further, 
we  should  rest  and  grow  strong,  for  the  way 
south  is  long,  and  on  that  trail  the  weak 
cannot  prosper.* 

" c  But  we  have  nothing/  he  objected,  look 
ing  about  him  at  the  rotten  timbers  of  the 
igloo,  the  stench  of  the  ancient  walrus  meat 
that  had  been  our  supper  disgusting  his 
nostrils.  c  And  on  this  fare  we  cannot  thrive. 
We  have  nothing  save  the  bottle  of  "pain 
killer,"  which  will  not  fill  emptiness,  so  we 
must  bend  to  the  yoke  of  the  unbeliever  and 
become  hewers  of  wood  and  drawers  of  water. 
And  there  be  good  things  in  this  place,  the 
which  we  may  not  have.  Ah,  master,  never 
has  my  nose  lied  to  me,  and  I  have  followed 


A    HYPERBOREAN    BREW  35 

it  to  secret  caches  and  among  the  fur-bales  of 
the  igloos.  Good  provender  did  these  people 
extort  from  the  poor  whalemen,  and  this  prov 
ender  has  wandered  into  few  hands.  The 
woman  Ipsukuk,  who  dwelleth  in  the  far  end 
of  the  village  next  the  igloo  of  the  chief,  pos- 
sesseth  much  flour  and  sugar,  and  even  have 
my  eyes  told  me  of  molasses  smeared  on  her 
face.  And  in  the  igloo  of  Tummasook,  the 
chief,  there  be  tea  —  have  I  not  seen  the  old 
pig  guzzling  ?  And  the  shaman  owneth  a 
caddy  of  "Star"  and  two  buckets  of  prime 
smoking.  And  what  have  we  ?  Nothing  ! 
Nothing!  Nothing!* 

"  But  I  was  stunned  by  the  word  he  brought 
of  the  tobacco,  and  made  no  answer. 

"  And  Moosu,  what  of  his  own  desire, 
broke  silence :  c  And  there  be  Tukeliketa, 
daughter  of  a  big  hunter  and  wealthy  man. 
A  likely  girl.  Indeed,  a  very  nice  girl/ 

"  I  figured  hard  during  the  night  while 
Moosu  snored,  for  I  could  not  bear  the 
thought  of  the  tobacco  so  near  which  I  could 
not  smoke.  True,  as  he  had  said,  we  had 


36  A    HYPERBOREAN    BREW 

nothing.  But  the  way  became  clear  to  me, 
and  in  the  morning  I  said  to  him :  c  Go  thou 
cunningly  abroad,  after  thy  fashion,  and  pro 
cure  me  some  sort  of  bone,  crooked  like  a 
gooseneck,  and  hollow.  Also,  walk  humbly, 
but  have  eyes  awake  to  the  lay  of  pots  and 
pans  and  cooking  contrivances.  And  remem 
ber,  mine  is  the  white  man's  wisdom,  and  do 
what  I  have  bid  you,  with  sureness  and 
despatch/ 

"  While  he  was  away  I  placed  the  whale- 
oil  cooking  lamp  in  the  middle  of  the  igloo, 
and  moved  the  mangy  sleeping  furs  back  that 
I  might  have  room.  Then  I  took  apart  his 
gun  and  put  the  barrel  by  handy,  and  after 
ward  braided  many  wicks  from  the  cotton 
that  the  women  gather  wild  in  the  summer. 
When  he  came  back,  it  was  with  the  bone  I 
had  commanded,  and  with  news  that  in  the 
igloo  of  Tummasook  there  was  a  five-gallon 
kerosene  can  and  a  big  copper  kettle.  So  I 
said  he  had  done  well  and  we  would  tarry 
through  the  day.  And  when  midnight  was 
near  I  made  harangue  to  him. 


A    HYPERBOREAN    BREW  37 

<c  c  This  chief,  this  Tummasook,  hath  a 
copper  kettle,  likewise  a  kerosene  can/  I 
put  a  rock,  smooth  and  wave-washed,  in 
Moosu's  hand.  c  The  camp  is  hushed  and 
the  stars  are  winking.  Go  thou,  creep  into 
the  chief's  igloo  softly,  and  smite  him  thus 
upon  the  belly,  and  hard.  And  let  the  meat 
and  good  grub  of  the  days  to  come  put 
strength  into  thine  arm.  There  will  be  up 
roar  and  outcry,  and  the  village  will  come  hot 
afoot.  But  be  thou  unafraid.  Veil  thy  move 
ments  and  lose  thy  form  in  the  obscurity  of 
the  night  and  the  confusion  of  men.  And 
when  the  woman  Ipsukuk  is  anigh  thee, — 
she  who  smeareth  her  face  with  molasses, 
—  do  thou  smite  her  likewise,  and  whosoever 
else  that  possesseth  flour  and  cometh  to  thy 
hand.  Then  do  thou  lift  thy  voice  in  pain 
and  double  up  with  clasped  hands,  and  make 
outcry  in  token  that  thou,  too,  hast  felt  the 
visitation  of  the  night.  And  in  this  way 
shall  we  achieve  honor  and  great  possessions, 
and  the  caddy  of  "  Star  "  and  the  prime  smok 
ing,  and  thy  Tukeliketa,  who  is  a  likely  maiden/ 


38  A    HYPERBOREAN   BREW 

"  When  he  had  departed  on  this  errand,  I 
bided  patiently  in  the  shack,  and  the  tobacco 
seemed  very  near.  Then  there  was  a  cry  of 
affright  in  the  night,  that  became  an  uproar 
and  assailed  the  sky.  I  seized  the  ( pain 
killer  '  and  ran  forth.  There  was  much  noise, 
and  a  wailing  among  the  women,  and  fear  sat 
heavily  on  all.  Tummasook  and  the  woman 
Ipsukuk  rolled  on  the  ground  in  pain,  and 
with  them  there  were  divers  others,  also 
Moosu.  I  thrust  aside  those  that  cluttered 
the  way  of  my  feet,  and  put  the  mouth  of  the 
bottle  to  Moosu's  lips.  And  straightway  he 
became  well  and  ceased  his  howling.  Whereat 
there  was  a  great  clamor  for  the  bottle  from 
the  others  so  stricken.  But  I  made  harangue, 
and  ere  they  tasted  and  were  made  well  I  had 
mulcted  Tummasook  of  his  copper  kettle  and 
kerosene  can,  and  the  woman  Ipsukuk  of  her 
sugar  and  molasses,  and  the  other  sick  ones 
of  goodly  measures  of  flour.  The  shaman 
glowered  wickedly  at  the  people  around  my 
knees,  though  he  poorly  concealed  the  wonder 
that  lay  beneath.  But  I  held  my  head  high, 


A    HYPERBOREAN    BREW  39 

and  Moosu  groaned  beneath  the  loot  as  he 
followed  my  heels  to  the  shack. 

"There  I  set  to  work.  In  Tummasook's 
copper  kettle  I  mixed  three  quarts  of  wheat 
flour  with  five  of  molasses,  and  to  this  I  added 
of  water  twenty  quarts.  Then  I  placed  the 
kettle  near  the  lamp,  that  it  might  sour  in 
the  warmth  and  grow  strong.  Moosu  under 
stood,  and  said  my  wisdom  passed  understand 
ing  and  was  greater  than  Solomon's,  who  he 
had  heard  was  a  wise  man  of  old  time.  The 
kerosene  can  I  set  over  the  lamp,  and  to  its 
nose  I  affixed  a  snout,  and  into  the  snout 
the  bone  that  was  like  a  gooseneck.  I  sent 
Moosu  without  to  pound  ice,  while  I  con 
nected  the  barrel  of  his  gun  with  the  goose 
neck,  and  midway  on  the  barrel  I  piled  the 
ice  he  had  pounded.  And  at  the  far  end  of 
the  gun  barrel,  beyond  the  pan  of  ice,  I  placed 
a  small  iron  pot.  When  the  brew  was  strong 
enough  (and  it  was  two  days  ere  it  could  stand 
on  its  own  legs),  I  filled  the  kerosene  can  with 
it,  and  lighted  the  wicks  I  had  braided. 

"  Now  that  all  was  ready,  I  spoke  to  Moosu. 


40  A    HYPERBOREAN    BREW 

'  Go  forth/  I  said,  c  to  the  chief  men  of  the 
village,  and  give  them  greeting,  and  bid  them 
come  into  my  igloo  and  sleep  the  night  away 
with  me  and  the  gods.' 

"  The  brew  was  singing  merrily  when  they 
began  shoving  aside  the  skin  flap  and  crawling 
in,  and  I  was  heaping  cracked  ice  on  the  gun 
barrel.  Out  of  the  priming  hole  at  the  far 
end,  drip,  drip,  drip  into  the  iron  pot  fell  the 
liquor  —  hooch,  you  know.  But  they'd  never 
seen  the  like,  and  giggled  nervously  when  I 
made  harangue  about  its  virtues.  As  I  talked 
I  noted  the  jealousy  in  the  shaman's  eye,  so 
when  I  had  done,  I  placed  him  side  by  side 
with  Tummasook  and  the  woman  Ipsukuk. 
Then  I  gave  them  to  drink,  and  their  eyes 
watered  and  their  stomachs  warmed,  till  from 
being  afraid  they  reached  greedily  for  more ; 
and  when  I  had  them  well  started,  I  turned  to 
the  others.  Tummasook  made  a  brag  about 
how  he  had  once  killed  a  polar  bear,  and  in 
the  vigor  of  his  pantomime  nearly  slew  his; 
mother's  brother.  But  nobody  heeded.  The 
woman  Ipsukuk  fell  to  weeping  for  a  son  lost; 


A    HYPERBOREAN    BREW  41 

long  years  agone  in  the  ice,  and  the  shaman 
made  incantation  and  prophecy.  So  it  went, 
and  before  morning  they  were  all  on  the  floor, 
sleeping  soundly  with  the  gods. 

"  The  story  tells  itself,  does  it  not  ?  The 
news  of  the  magic  potion  spread.  It  was  too 
marvellous  for  utterance.  Tongues  could  tell 
but  a  tithe  of  the  miracles  it  performed.  It 
eased  pain,  gave  surcease  to  sorrow,  brought 
back  old  memories,  dead  faces,  and  forgotten 
dreams.  It  was  a  fire  that  ate  through  all 
the  blood,  and,  burning,  burned  not.  It 
stoutened  the  heart,  stiffened  the  back,  and 
made  men  more  than  men.  It  revealed  the 
future,  and  gave  visions  and  prophecy.  It 
brimmed  with  wisdom  and  unfolded  secrets. 
There  was  no  end  of  the  things  it  could  do, 
and  soon  there  was  a  clamoring  on  all  hands 
to  sleep  with  the  gods.  They  brought  their 
warmest  furs,  their  strongest  dogs,  their  best 
meats ;  but  I  sold  the  hooch  with  discretion, 
and  only  those  were  favored  that  brought  flour 
and  molasses  and  sugar.  And  such  stores 
poured  in  that  I  set  Moosu  to  build  a  cache 


42  A    HYPERBOREAN    BREW 

to  hold  them,  for  there  was  soon  no  space  in 
the  igloo.  Ere  three  days  had  passed  Tum- 
masook  had  gone  bankrupt.  The  shaman, 
who  was  never  more  than  half  drunk  after  the 
first  night,  watched  me  closely  and  hung  on 
for  the  better  part  of  the  week.  But  before 
ten  days  were  gone  even  the  woman  Ipsukuk 
exhausted  her  provisions,  and  went  home  weak 
and  tottery. 

"  But  Moosu  complained.  { O  master/ 
he  said,  ( we  have  laid  by  great  wealth  in 
molasses  and  sugar  and  flour,  but  our  shack  is 
yet  mean,  our  clothes  thin,  and  our  sleeping 
furs  mangy.  There  is  a  call  of  the  belly  for 
meat  the  stench  of  which  offends  not  the  stars, 
and  for  tea  such  as  Tummasook  guzzles,  and 
there  is  a  great  yearning  for  the  tobacco  of 
Neewak,  who  is  shaman  and  who  plans  to 
destroy  us.  I  have  flour  until  I  am  sick,  and 
sugar  and  molasses  without  stint,  yet  is  the 
heart  of  Moosu  sore  and  his  bed  empty.' 

"  '  Peace  ! '  I  answered,  f  thou  art  weak  of 
understanding  and  a  fool.  Walk  softly  and 
wait,  and  we  will  grasp  it  all.  But  grasp  now, 


A    HYPERBOREAN    BREW  43 

and  we  grasp  little,  and  in  the  end  it  will  be 
nothing.  Thou  art  a  child  in  the  way  of  the 
white  man's  wisdom.  Hold  thy  tongue  and 
watch,  and  I  will  show  you  the  way  my 
brothers  do  overseas,  and,  so  doing,  gather 
to  themselves  the  riches  of  the  earth.  It 
is  what  is  called  "  business,"  and  what  dost 
thou  know  about  business  ? ' 

"  But  the  next  day  he  came  in  breathless, 
*  O  master,  a  strange  thing  happeneth  in  tha 
igloo  of  Neewak,  the  shaman ;  wherefore  we 
are  lost,  and  we  have  neither  worn  the  warm 
furs  nor  tasted  the  good  tobacco,  what  of  your 
madness  for  the  molasses  and  flour.  Go  thou 
and  witness  whilst  I  watch  by  the  brew.' 

"  So  I  went  to  the  igloo  of  Neewak.  And 
behold,  he  had  made  his  own  still,  fashioned 
cunningly  after  mine.  And  as  he  beheld  me 
he  could  ill  conceal  his  triumph.  For  he  was 
a  man  of  parts,  and  his  sleep  with  the  gods 
when  in  my  igloo  had  not  been  sound. 

"  But  I  was  not  disturbed,  for  I  knew  what 
I  knew,  and  when  I  returned  to  my  own  igloo, 
I  descanted  to  Moosu  and  said :  *  Happily  the 


44  A   HYPERBOREAN    BREW 

property  right  obtains  amongst  this  people, 
who  otherwise  have  been  blessed  with  but  few 
of  the  institutions  of  men.  And  because  of 
this  respect  for  property  shall  you  and  I  wax 
fat,  and,  further,  we  shall  introduce  amongst 
them  new  institutions  that  other  peoples 
have  worked  out  through  great  travail  and 
suffering.' 

cc  But  Moosu  understood  dimly,  till  the 
shaman  came  forth,  with  eyes  flashing  and  a 
threatening  note  in  his  voice,  and  demanded 
to  trade  with  me.  c  For  look  you/  he  cried, 
*  there  be  of  flour  and  molasses  none  in  all  the 
village.  The  like  have  you  gathered  with  a 
shrewd  hand  from  my  people,  who  have  slept 
with  your  gods  and  who  now  have  nothing 
save  large  heads,  and  weak  knees,  and  a 
thirst  for  cold  water  that  they  cannot  quench. 
This  is  not  good,  and  my  voice  has  power 
among  them ;  so  it  were  well  that  we  trade, 
you  and  I,  even  as  you  have  traded  with  them, 
for  molasses  and  flour.' 

"  And  I  made  answer :  c  This  be  good  talk, 
and  wisdom  abideth  in  thy  mouth.  We  will 


A   HYPERBOREAN   BREW  45 

trade.  For  this  much  of  flour  and  molasses 
givest  thou  me  the  caddy  of  "  Star "  and  the 
two  buckets  of  smoking/ 

"  And  Moosu  groaned,  and  when  the 
trade  was  made  and  the  shaman  departed, 
he  upbraided  me :  ( Now,  because  of  thy 
madness,  are  we,  indeed,  lost !  Neewak  mak- 
eth  hooch  on  his  own  account,  and  when 
the  time  is  ripe,  he  will  command  the  people 
to  drink  of  no  hooch  but  his  hooch.  And  in 
this  way  are  we  undone,  and  our  goods  worth 
less,  and  our  igloo  mean,  and  the  bed  of 
Moosu  cold  and  empty  ! ' 

"  And  I  answered :  c  By  the  body  of  the 
wolf,  say  I,  thou  art  a  fool,  and  thy  fathers 
before  thee,  and  thy  children  after  thee,  down 
to  the  last  generation.  Thy  wisdom  is  worse 
than  no  wisdom  and  thine  eyes  blinded  to 
business,  of  which  I  have  spoken  and  whereof 
thou  knowest  nothing.  Go,  thou  son  of  a 
thousand  fools,  and  drink  of  the  hooch  that 
Neewak  brews  in  his  igloo,  and  thank  thy 
gods  that  thou  hast  a  white  man's  wisdom  to 
make  soft  the  bed  thou  liest  in.  Go !  and 


46  A    HYPERBOREAN    BREW 

when  thou  hast  drunken,  return  with  the  taste 
still  on  thy  lips,  that  I  may  know.' 

"  And  two  days  after,  Neewak  sent  greeting 
and  invitation  to  his  igloo.  Moosu  went,  but 
I  sat  alone,  with  the  song  of  the  still  in  my 
ears,  and  the  air  thick  with  the  shaman's 
tobacco ;  for  trade  was  slack  that  night,  and 
no  one  dropped  in  but  Angeit,  a  young  hunter 
that  had  faith  in  me.  Later,  Moosu  came 
back,  his  speech  thick  with  chuckling  and  his 
eyes  wrinkling  with  laughter. 

"  '  Thou  art  a  great  man/  he  said.  c  Thou 
art  a  great  man,  O  master,  and  because  of  thy 
greatness  thou  wilt  not  condemn  Moosu,  thy 
servant,  who  ofttimes  doubts  and  cannot  be 
made  to  understand/ 

cc  c  And  wherefore  now  ? '  I  demanded. 
c  Hast  thou  drunk  overmuch  ?  And  are  they 
sleeping  sound  in  the  igloo  of  Neewak,  the 
shaman  ? ' 

" c  Nay,  they  are  angered  and  sore  of  body, 
and  Chief  Tummasook  has  thrust  his  thumbs 
in  the  throat  of  Neewak,  and  sworn  by  the 
bones  of  his  ancestors  to  look  upon  his  face 


A    HYPERBOREAN    BREW  47 

no  more.  For  behold  !  I  went  to  the  igloo,* 
and  the  brew  simmered  and  bubbled,  and  the 
steam  journeyed  through  the  gooseneck  even 
as  thy  steam,  and  even  as  thine  it  became 
water  where  it  met  the  ice,  and  dropped  into 
the  pot  at  the  far  end.  And  Neewak  gave  us 
to  drink,  and  lo,  it  was  not  like  thine,  for  there 
was  no  bite  to  the  tongue  nor  tingling  to  the 
eyeballs,  and  of  a  truth  it  was  water.  So  we 
drank,  and  we  drank  overmuch ;  yet  did  we 
sit  with  cold  hearts  and  solemn.  And  Neewak 
was  perplexed  and  a  cloud  came  on  his  brow. 
And  he  took  Tummasook  and  Ipsukuk  alone 
of  all  the  company  and  sat  them  apart,  and 
bade  them  drink  and  drink  and  drink.  And 
they  drank  and  drank  and  drank,  and  yet  sat 
solemn  and  cold,  till  Tummasook  arose  in 
wrath  and  demanded  back  the  furs  and  the  tea 
he  had  paid.  And  Ipsukuk  raised  her  voice, 
thin  and  angry.  And  the  company  demanded 
back  what  they  had  given,  and  there  was  a 
great  commotion/ 

"  f  Does  the  son  of  a  dog  deem  me  a  whale  ? ' 
demanded  Tummasook,  shoving  back  the  skin 


48  A    HYPERBOREAN    BREW 

flap  and  standing  erect,  his  face  black  and  his 
brows  angry. 

"<  Wherefore  I  am  filled,  like  a  fish-blad 
der,  to  bursting,  till  I  can  scarce  walk,  what 
of  the  weight  within  me  ?  Lalah !  I  have 
drunken  as  never  before,  yet  are  my  eyes 
clear,  my  knees  strong,  my  hand  steady/ 

" c  The  shaman  cannot  send  us  to  sleep  with 
the  gods/  the  people  complained,  stringing  in 
and  joining  us,  'and  only  in  thy  igloo  may 
the  thing  be  done/ 

"  So  I  laughed  to  myself  as  I  passed  the 
hooch  around  and  the  guests  made  merry. 
For  in  the  flour  I  had  traded  to  Neewak  I 
had  mixed  much  soda  that  I  had  got  from 
the  woman  Ipsukuk.  So  how  could  his  brew 
ferment  when  the  soda  kept  it  sweet  ?  Or  his 
hooch  be  hooch  when  it  would  not  sour  ? 

"  After  that  our  wealth  flowed  in  without 
let  or  hindrance.  Furs  we  had  without  num 
ber,  and  the  fancy  work  of  the  women,  all  of 
the  chief's  tea,  and  no  end  of  meat.  One  day 
Moosu  retold  for  my  benefit,  and  sadly 
mangled,  the  story  of  Joseph  in  Egypt,  but 


A    HYPERBOREAN    BREW  49 

from  it  I  got  an  idea,  and  soon  I  had  half  the 
tribe  at  work  building  me  great  meat  caches. 
And  of  all  they  hunted  I  got  the  lion's  share 
and  stored  it  away.  Nor  was  Moosu  idle.  He 
made  himself  a  pack  of  cards  from  birch  bark, 
and  taught  Neewak  the  way  to  play  seven-up. 
He  also  inveigled  the  father  of  Tukeliketa 
into  the  game.  And  one  day  he  married  the 
maiden,  and  the  next  day  he  moved  into 
the  shaman's  house,  which  was  the  finest 
in  the  village.  The  fall  of  Neewak  was  com 
plete,  for  he  lost  all  his  possessions,  his 
walrus-hide  drums,  his  incantation  tools  — 
everything.  And  in  the  end  he  became  a. 
hewer  of  wood  and  drawer  of  water  at  the 
beck  and  call  of  Moosu.  And  Moosu  —  he 
set  himself  up  as  shaman,  or  high  priest,  and 
out  of  his  garbled  Scripture  created  new  gods 
and  made  incantation  before  strange  altars. 

"  And  I  was  well  pleased,  for  I  thought  it 
good  that  church  and  state  go  hand  in  hand, 
and  I  had  certain  plans  of  my  own  concern 
ing  the  state.  Events  were  shaping  as  I  had 
foreseen.  Good  temper  and  smiling  faces 


50  A    HYPERBOREAN    BREW 

had  vanished  from  the  village.  The  people 
were  morose  and  sullen.  There  were  quarrels 
and  fighting,  and  things  were  in  an  uproar  night 
and  day.  Moosu's  cards  were  duplicated  and 
the  hunters  fell  to  gambling  among  themselves. 
Tummasook  beat  his  wife  horribly,  and  his 
mothers  brother  objected  and  smote  him  with 
a  tusk  of  walrus  till  he  cried  aloud  in  the 
night  and  was  shamed  before  the  people. 
Also,  amid  such  diversions  no  hunting  was 
done,  and  famine  fell  upon  the  land.  The 
nights  were  long  and  dark,  and  without  meat 
no  hooch  could  be  bought ;  so  they  murmured 
against  the  chief.  This  I  had  played  for,  and 
when  they  were  well  and  hungry,  I  summoned 
the  whole  village,  made  a  great  harangue, 
posed  as  patriarch,  and  fed  the  famishing. 
Moosu  made  harangue  likewise,  and  because 
of  this  and  the  thing  I  had  done  I  was  made 
chief.  Moosu,  who  had  the  ear  of  God  and 
decreed  his  judgments,  anointed  me  with 
whale  blubber,  and  right  blubberly  he  did  it, 
not  understanding  the  ceremony.  And  be 
tween  us  we  interpreted  to  the  people  the  new 


A    HYPERBOREAN    BREW  51 

theory  of  the  divine  right  of  kings.  There 
was  hooch  galore,  and  meat  and  feasting,  and 
they  took  kindly  to  the  new  order. 

"  So  you  see,  O  man,  I  have  sat  in  the 
high  places,  and  worn  the  purple,  and  ruled 
populations.  And  I  might  yet  be  a  king  had 
the  tobacco  held  out,  or  had  Moosu  been 
more  fool  and  less  knave.  For  he  cast  eyes 
upon  Esanetuk,  eldest  daughter  to  Tumma- 
sook,  and  I  objected. 

" '  O  brother/  he  explained,  *  thou  hast  seen 
fit  to  speak  of  introducing  new  institutions 
amongst  this  people,  and  I  have  listened  to 
thy  words  and  gained  wisdom  thereby.  Thou 
rulest  by  the  God-given  right,  and  by  the 
God-given  right  I  marry/ 

"  I  noted  that  he  *  brothered  '  me,  and  was 
angry  and  put  my  foot  down.  But  he  fell 
back  upon  the  people  and  made  incantations 
for  three  days,  in  which  all  hands  joined ;  and 
then,  speaking  with  the .  voice  of  God,  he 
decreed  polygamy  by  divine  fiat.  But  he  was 
shrewd,  for  he  limited  the  number  of  wives  by 
a  property  qualification,  and  because  of  which 


52  A   HYPERBOREAN   BREW 

he,  above  all  men,  was  favored  by  his  wealth. 
Nor  could  I  fail  to  admire,  though  it  was 
plain  that  power  had  turned  his  head,  and  he 
would  not  be  satisfied  till  all  the  power  and 
all  the  wealth  rested  in  his  own  hands.  So 
he  became  swollen  with  pride,  forgot  it  was 
I  that  had  placed  him  there,  and  made  prepa 
rations  to  destroy  me. 

"  But  it  was  interesting,  for  the  beggar  was 
working  out  in  his  own  way  an  evolution  of 
primitive  society.  Now  I,  by  virtue  of  the 
hooch  monopoly,  drew  a  revenue  in  which  I  no 
longer  permitted  him  to  share.  So  he  medi 
tated  for  a  while  and  evolved  a  system  of 
ecclesiastical  taxation.  He  laid  tithes  upon 
the  people,  harangued  about  fat  firstlings  and 
such  things,  and  twisted  whatever  twisted  texts 
he  had  ever  heard  to  serve  his  purpose.  Even 
this  I  bore  in  silence,  but  when  he  instituted 
what  may  be  likened  to  a  graduated  income  tax, 
I  rebelled,  and  blindly,  for  this  was  what  he 
worked  for.  Thereat,  he  appealed  to  the 
people,  and  they,  envious  of  my  great  wealth 
and  well  taxed  themselves,  upheld  him. 


A    HYPERBOREAN    BREW  53 

<  Why  should  we  pay,'  they  asked,  c  and  not 
you?  Does  not  the  voice  of  God  speak 
through  the  lips  of  Moosu,  the  shaman  ? ' 
So  I  yielded.  But  at  the  same  time  I  raised 
the  price  of  hooch,  and  lo,  he  was  not  a  whit 
behind  me  in  raising  my  taxes. 

"  Then  there  was  open  war.  I  made  a  play 
for  Neewak  and  Tummasook,  because  of  the 
traditionary  rights  they  possessed ;  but  Moosu 
won  out  by  creating  a  priesthood  and  giving 
them  both  high  office.  The  problem  of 
authority  presented  itself  to  him,  and  he 
worked  it  out  as  it  has  often  been  worked 
before.  There  was  my  mistake.  I  should 
have  been  made  shaman,  and  he  chief;  but  I 
saw  it  too  late,  and  in  the  clash  of  spiritual 
and  temporal  power  I  was  bound  to  be 
worsted.  A  great  controversy  waged,  but  it 
quickly  became  one-sided.  The  people  re 
membered  that  he  had  anointed  me,  and  it 
was  clear  to  them  that  the  source  of  my 
authority  lay,  not  in  me,  but  in  Moosu.  Only 
a  few  faithful  ones  clung  to  me,  chief  among 
whom  Angeit  was ;  while  he  headed  the  popu- 


54  A    HYPERBOREAN    BREW 

lar  party  and  set  whispers  afloat  that  I  had  it 
in  mind  to  overthrow  him  and  set  up  my 
own  gods,  which  were  most  unrighteous  gods. 
And  in  this  the  clever  rascal  had  anticipated 
me,  for  it  was  just  what  I  had  intended  — 
forsake  my  kingship,  you  see,  and  fight  spirit 
ual  with  spiritual.  So  he  frightened  the  people 
with  the  iniquities  of  my  peculiar  gods  —  espe 
cially  the  one  he  named  c  Biz-e-Nass '  —  and 
nipped  the  scheme  in  the  bud. 

"  Now,  it  happened  that  Kluktu,  youngest 
daughter  to  Tummasook,  had  caught  my  fancy, 
and  I  likewise  hers.  So  I  made  overtures, 
but  the  ex-chief  refused  bluntly  —  after  I  had 
paid  the  purchase  price  —  and  informed  me 
that  she  was  set  aside  for  Moosu.  This  was 
too  much,  and  I  was  half  of  a  mind  to  go  to  his 
igloo  and  slay  him  with  my  naked  hands ;  but 
I  recollected  that  the  tobacco  was  near  gone, 
and  went  home  laughing.  The  next  day  he 
made  incantation,  and  distorted  the  miracle  of 
the  loaves  and  fishes  till  it  became  prophecy, 
and  I,  reading  between  the  lines,  saw  that  it 
was  aimed  at  the  wealth  of  meat  stored  in 


A   HYPERBOREAN    BREW  55 

my  caches.  The  people  also  read  between  the 
lines,  and,  as  he  did  not  urge  them  to  go  on 
the  hunt,  they  remained  at  home,  and  few  cari 
bou  or  bear  were  brought  in. 

"  But  I  had  plans  of  my  own,  seeing  that 
not  only  the  tobacco  but  the  flour  and 
molasses  were  near  gone.  And  further,  I 
felt  it  my  duty  to  prove  the  white  man's 
wisdom  and  bring  sore  distress  to  Moosu, 
who  had  waxed  high-stomached,  what  of  the 
power  I  had  given  him.  So  that  night  I  went 
to  my  meat  caches  and  toiled  mightily,  and  it 
was  noted  next  day  that  all  the  dogs  of  the 
village  were  lazy.  No  one  suspected,  and  I 
toiled  thus  every  night,  and  the  dogs  grew 
fat  and  fatter,  and  the  people  lean  and  leaner. 
They  grumbled  and  demanded  the  fulfilment 
of  prophecy,  but  Moosu  restrained  them, 
waiting  for  their  hunger  to  grow  yet  greater. 
Nor  did  he  dream,  to  the  very  last,  of  the 
trick  I  had  been  playing  on  the  empty  caches. 

"When  all  was  ready,  I  sent  Angeit,  and 
the  faithful  ones  whom  I  had  fed  privily, 
through  the  village  to  call  assembly.  And 


56  A    HYPERBOREAN    BREW 

the  tribe  gathered  on  a  great  space  of  beaten 
snow  before  my  door,  with  the  meat  caches 
towering  stilt-legged  in  the  rear.  Moosu 
came  also,  standing  on  the  inner  edge  of  the 
circle  opposite  me,  confident  that  I  had  some 
scheme  afoot,  and  prepared  at  the  first  break 
to  down  me.  But  I  arose,  giving  him  saluta 
tion  before  all  men. 

" '  O  Moosu,  thou  blessed  of  God/  I  began, 
*  doubtless  thou  hast  wondered  in  that  I  have 
called  this  convocation  together ;  and  doubt 
less,  because  of  my  many  foolishnesses,  art 
thou  prepared  for  rash  sayings  and  rash 
doings.  Not  so.  It  has  been  said,  that 
those  the  gods  would  destroy  they  first  make 
mad.  And  I  have  been  indeed  mad.  I  have 
crossed  thy  will,  and  scoffed  at  thy  authority, 
and  done  divers  evil  and  wanton  things. 
Wherefore,  last  night  a  vision  was  vouchsafed 
me,  and  I  have  seen  the  wickedness  of  my 
ways.  And  thou  stoodst  forth  like  a  shining 
star,  with  brows  aflame,  and  I  knew  in  mine 
own  heart  thy  greatness.  I  saw  all  things 
clearly.  I  knew  that  thou  didst  command  the 


A    HYPERBOREAN    BREW  57 

ear  of  God,  and  that  when  you  spoke  ht  lis 
tened.  And  I  remembered  that  whatever  of 
the  good  deeds  that  I  had  done,  I  had  done 
through  the  grace  of  God,  and  the  grace  of 
Moosu. 

" c  Yes,  my  children/  I  cried,  turning  to  the 
people,  c  whatever  right  I  have  done,  and 
whatever  good  I  have  done,  have  been  because 
of  the  counsel  of  Moosu.  When  I  listened 
to  him,  affairs  prospered ;  when  I  closed  my 
ears,  and  acted  according  to  my  folly,  things 
came  to  folly.  By  his  advice  it  was  that  I  laid 
my  store  of  meat,  and  in  time  of  darkness  fed 
the  famishing.  By  his  grace  it  was  that  I 
was  made  chief.  And  what  have  I  done  with 
my  chiefship?  Let  me  tell  you.  I  have 
done  nothing.  My  head  was  turned  with 
power,  and  I  deemed  myself  greater  than 
Moosu,  and,  behold,  I  have  come  to  grief. 
My  rule  has  been  unwise,  and  the  gods  are 
angered.  Lo,  ye  are  pinched  with  famine, 
and  the  mothers  are  dry-breasted,  and  the 
little  babies  cry  through  the  long  nights.  Nor 
do  I,  who  have  hardened  my  heart  against 


58  A    HYPERBOREAN    BREW 

Moosu,  know  what  shall  be  done,  nor  in  what 
manner  of  way  grub  shall  be  had/ 

"  At  this  there  was  nodding  and  laughing, 
and  the  people  put  their  heads  together  and 
I  knew  they  whispered  of  the  loaves  and 
fishes.  I  went  on  hastily.  '  So  I  was  made 
aware  of  my  foolishness  and  of  Moosu's  wis 
dom  ;  of  my  own  unfitness  and  of  Moosu's 
fitness.  And  because  of  this,  being  no  longer 
mad,  I  make  acknowledgment  and  rectify 
evil.  I  did  cast  unrighteous  eyes  upon 
Kluktu,  and  lo,  she  was  sealed  to  Moosu. 
Yet  is  she  mine,  for  did  I  not  pay  to  Tumma- 
sook  the  goods  of  purchase  ?  But  I  am  well 
unworthy  of  her,  and  she  shall  go  from  the 
igloo  of  her  father  to  the  igloo  of  Moosu. 
Can  the  moon  shine  in  the  sunshine  ?  And 
further,  Tummasook  shall  keep  the  goods  of 
purchase,  and  she  be  a  free  gift  to  Moosu, 
whom  God  hath  ordained  her  rightful  lord. 

" c  And  further  yet,  because  I  have  used  my 
wealth  unwisely,  and  to  oppress  ye,  O  my 
children,  do  I  make  gifts  of  the  kerosene 
can  to  Moosu,  and  the  gooseneck,  and  the  gun 


A    HYPERBOREAN    BREW  59 

barrel,  and  the  copper  kettle.  Therefore,  I 
can  gather  to  me  no  more  possessions,  and 
when  ye  are  athirst  for  hooch,  he  will  quench 
ye  and  without  robbery.  For  he  is  a  great 
man,  and  God  speaketh  through  his  lips. 

cccAnd  yet  further,  my  heart  is  softened, 
and  I  have  repented  me  of  my  madness.  I, 
who  am  a  fool  and  a  son  of  fools ;  I,  who  am 
the  slave  of  the  bad  god  Biz-e-Nass  ;  I,  who 
see  thy  empty  bellies  and  know  not  wherewith 
to  fill  them  —  why  shall  I  be  chief,  and  sit 
above  thee,  and  rule  to  thine  own  destruction  ? 
Why  should  I  do  this,  which  is  not  good  ? 
But  Moosu,  who  is  shaman,  and  who  is  wise 
above  men,  is  so  made  that  he  can  rule  with 
a  soft  hand  and  justly.  And  because  of  the 
things  I  have  related  do  I  make  abdication 
and  give  my  chiefship  to  Moosu,  who  alone 
knoweth  how  ye  may  be  fed  in  this  day  when 
there  be  no  meat  in  the  land.' 

"  At  this  there  was  a  great  clapping  of  hands, 
and  the  people  cried,  c  Kloshe  !  Kloshe  !  '  which 
means,  c  good/  I  had  seen  the  wonder-worry 
in  Moosu's  eyes ;  for  he  could  not  understand, 


60  A   HYPERBOREAN    BREW 

and  was  fearful  of  my  white  man's  wisdom.  I 
had  met  his  wishes  all  along  the  line,  and  even 
anticipated  some ;  and  standing  there,  self- 
shorn  of  all  my  power,  he  knew  the  time  did 
not  favor  to  stir  the  people  against  me, 

"  Before  they  could  disperse  I  made  an 
nouncement  that  while  the  still  went  to  Moosu, 
whatever  hooch  I  possessed  went  to  the  peo 
ple.  Moosu  tried  to  protest  at  this,  for  never 
had  we  permitted  more  than  a  handful  to  be 
drunk  at  a  time ;  but  they  cried,  c  Kloshe ! 
Kloshe ! '  and  made  festival  before  my  door. 
And  while  they  waxed  uproarious  without,  as 
the  liquor  went  to  their  heads,  I  held  council 
within  with  Angeit  and  the  faithful  ones.  I 
set  them  the  tasks  they  were  to  do,  and  put 
into  their  mouths  the  words  they  were  to  say. 
Then  I  slipped  away  to  a  place  back  in  the 
woods  where  I  had  two  sleds,  well  loaded,  with 
teams  of  dogs  that  were  not  overfed.  Spring 
was  at  hand,  you  see,  and  there  was  a  crust  to 
the  snow ;  so  it  was  the  best  time  to  take  the 
way  south.  Moreover,  the  tobacco  was  gone. 
There  I  waited,  for  I  had  nothing  to  fear. 


A    HYPERBOREAN    BREW  61 

Did  they  bestir  themselves  on  my  trail,  their 
dogs  were  too  fat,  and  themselves  too  Jean,  to 
overtake  me ;  also,  I  deemed  their  bestirring 
would  be  of  an  order  for  which  I  had  made 
due  preparation. 

"  First  came  a  faithful  one,  running,  and 
after  him  another.  c  O  master/  the  first  cried 
breathless,  c  there  be  great  confusion  in  the- 
village,  and  no  man  knoweth  his  own  mind, 
and  they  be  of  many  minds.  Everybody  hath 
drunken  overmuch,  and  some  be  stringing, 
bows,  and  some  be  quarrelling  one  with  an 
other.  Never  was  there  such  a  trouble/ 

"And  the  second  one:  ' And  I  did  as  thou 
biddest,  O  master,  whispering  shrewd  words 
in  thirsty  ears,  and  raising  memories  of  the- 
things  that  were  of  old  time.  The  woman 
Ipsukuk  waileth  her  poverty  and  the  wealth 
that  no  longer  is  hers.  And  Tummasook 
thinketh  himself  once  again  chief,  and  the 
people  are  hungry  and  rage  up  and  down/ 

"  And  a  third  one :  *  And  Neewak  hath 
overthrown  the  altars  of  Moosu,  and  maketh 
incantation  before  the  time-honored  and,  an- 


62  A    HYPERBOREAN    BREW 

cient  gods.  And  all  the  people  remember  the 
wealth  that  ran  down  their  throats,  and  which 
they  possess  no  more.  And  first,  Esanetuk, 
who  be  sick  tumtum^  fought  with  Kluktu,  and 
there  was  much  noise.  And  next,  being 
daughters  of  the  one  mother,  did  they  fight 
with  Tukeliketa.  And  after  that  did  they 
three  fall  upon  Moosu,  like  wind-squalls,  from 
every  hand,  till  he  ran  forth  from  the  igloo, 
and  the  people  mocked  him.  For  a  man  who 
cannot  command  his  womankind  is  a  fool/ 

"  Then  came  Angeit:  f  Great  trouble  hath  be 
fallen  Moosu,  O  master,  for  I  have  whispered 
to  advantage,  till  the  people  came  to  Moosu, 
saying  they  were  hungry  and  demanding  the 
fulfilment  of  prophecy.  And  there  was  a  loud 
shout  of  "  Itlwillie  !  Itlwillie  !  "  (Meat.)  So 
he  cried  peace  to  his  womenfolk,  who  were 
overwrought  with  anger  and  with  hooch,  and 
led  the  tribe  even  to  thy  meat  caches.  And 
he  bade  the  men  open  them  and  be  fed.  And 
lo,  the  caches  were  empty.  There  was  no 
meat.  They  stood  without  sound,  the  people 
being  frightened,  and  in  the  silence  I  lifted  my 


A    HYPERBOREAN    BREW  63 

voice.  "  O  Moosu,  where  is  the  meat  ?  That 
there  was  meat  we  know.  Did  we  not  hunt 
it  and  drag  it  in  from  the  hunt  ?  And  it  were 
a  lie  to  say  one  man  hath  eaten  it ;  yet  have 
we  seen  nor  hide  nor  hair.  Where  is  the 
meat,  O  Moosu  ?  Thou  hast  the  ear  of  God. 
Where  is  the  meat  ? " 

"'And  the  people  cried,  "Thou  hast  the 
ear  of  God.  Where  is  the  meat  ?  "  And  they 
put  their  heads  together  and  were  afraid. 
Then  I  went  among  them,  speaking  fear- 
somely  of  the  unknown  things,  of  the  dead 
that  come  and  go  like  shadows  and  do  evil 
deeds,  till  they  cried  aloud  in  terror  and 
gathered  all  together,  like  little  children  afraid 
of  the  dark.  Neewak  made  harangue,  laying 
this  evil  that  had  come  upon  them  at  the 
door  of  Moosu.  When  he  had  done,  there 
was  a  furious  commotion,  and  they  took 
spears  in  their  hands,  and  tusks  of  walrus, 
and  clubs,  and  stones  from  the  beach.  But 
Moosu  ran  away  home,  and  because  he  had 
not  drunken  of  hooch  they  could  not  catch 
him,  and  fell  one  over  another  and  made 


64  A    HYPERBOREAN    BREW 

haste  slowly.  Even  now  they  do  howl  with 
out  his  igloo,  and  his  womanfolk  within,  and 
what  of  the  noise,  he  cannot  make  himself 
heard/ 

<c  c  O  Angeit,  thou  hast  done  well/  I  com- 
mended.  f  Go  now,  taking  this  empty  sled 
and  the  lean  dogs,  and  ride  fast  to  the  igloo 
of  Moosu ;  and  before  the  people,  who  are 
drunken,  are  aware,  throw  him  quick  upon 
the  sled  and  bring  him  to  me/ 

"  I  waited  and  gave  good  advice  to  the 
faithful  ones  till  Angeit  returned.  Moosu 
was  on  the  sled,  and  I  saw  by  the  fingermarks 
on  his  face  that  his  womankind  had  done  well 
by  him.  But  he  tumbled  off  and  fell  in  the 
snow  at  my  feet,  crying :  c  O  master,  thou 
wilt  forgive  Moosu,  thy  servant,  for  the 
wrong  things  he  has  done !  Thou  art  a  great 
man  !  Surely  wilt  thou  forgive  ! ' 

"'Call  me  "brother,"  Moosu  — call  me 
<c  brother/ ' '  I  chided,  lifting  him  to  his  feet 
with  the  toe  of  my  moccasin.  <  Wilt  thou 
evermore  obey  ? ' 

"  c  Yea,  master/  he  whimpered,  c  evermore/ 


A    HYPERBOREAN    BREW  65 

£c '  Then  dispose  thy  body,  so,  across  the 
sled.'  I  shifted  the  dogwhip  to  my  right 
hand.  c  And  direct  thy  face  downward, 
toward  the  snow.  And  make  haste,  for  we 
journey  south  this  day/  And  when  he  was 
well  fixed  I  laid  the  lash  upon  him,  reciting, 
at  every  stroke,  the  wrongs  he  had  done  me. 
<  This,  for  thy  disobedience  in  general  — 
whack !  And  this  for  thy  disobedience  in 
particular  —  whack  !  whack  !  And  this  for 
Esanetuk  !  And  this  for  thy  soul's  welfare ! 
And  this  for  the  grace  of  thy  authority  !  And 
this  for  Kluktu !  And  this  for  thy  rights 
God-given  !  And  this  for  thy  fat  firstlings  ! 
And  this  and  this  for  thy  income  tax  and  thy 
loaves  and  fishes  !  And  this  for  all  thy  dis 
obedience  !  And  this,  finally,  that  thou  mayest 
henceforth  walk  softly  and  with  understanding ! 
Now  cease  thy  sniffling  and  get  up  !  Gird  on 
thy  snowshoes  and  go  to  the  fore  and  break: 
trail  for  the  dogs.  Chook  I  Mush-on  I  Git ! ' 

Thomas  Stevens  smiled  quietly  to  himself 
as  he  lighted  his  fifth  cigar  and  sent  curling 
smoke-rings  ceilingward. 


66  A    HYPERBOREAN    BREW 

cc  But  how  about  the  people  of  Tattarat  ?  " 
I  asked.  "  Kind  of  rough,  wasn't  it,  to  leave 
them  flat  with  famine  ?  " 

And  he  answered,  laughing,  between  two 
smoke-rings,  "  Were  there  not  the  fat  dogs  ?  " 


THE    FAITH    OF    MEN 


THE    FAITH    OF    MEN1 

"A"   |   ^ELL  you  what  we'll  do;  we'll  shake 
for  it." 

"  That  suits  me,"  said  the  second 
man,  turning,  as  he  spoke,  to  the  Indian 
that  was  mending  snowshoes  in  a  corner  of 
the  cabin.  "  Here,  you  Billebedam,  take 
a  run  down  to  Oleson's  cabin  like  a  good 
fellow  and  tell  him  we  want  to  borrow  his 
dice  box." 

This  sudden  request  in  the  midst  of  a  coun 
cil  on  wages  of  men,  wood,  and  grub  surprised 
Billebedam.  Besides,  it  was  early  in  the  day, 
and  he  had  never  known  white  men  of  the 
caliber  of  Pentfield  and  Hutchinson  to  dice 
and  play  till  the  day's  work  was  done.  But 
his  face  was  impassive  as  a  Yukon  Indian's 
should  be,  as  he  pulled  on  his  mittens  and 
went  out  the  door. 

1  Copyright,  1903,  by  The  Sunset  Magazine. 
69 


70  THE    FAITH    OF    MEN 

Though  eight  o'clock,  it  was  still  dark 
outside,  and  the  cabin  was  lighted  by  a  tallow 
candle  thrust  into  an  empty  whiskey  bottle. 
It  stood  on  the  pine  board  table  in  the  middle 
of  a  disarray  of  dirty  tin  dishes.  Tallow 
from  innumerable  candles  had  dripped  down 
the  long  neck  of  the  bottle  and  hardened 
into  a  miniature  glacier.  The  small  room, 
which  composed  the  entire  cabin,  was  as 
badly  littered  as  the  table.  While  at  one 
end,  against  the  wall,  were  two  bunks,  one 
above  the  other,  with  the  blankets  turned 
down  just  as  the  two  men  had  crawled  out  in 
the  morning. 

Lawrence  Pentfield  and  Corry  Hutchinson 
were  millionnaires,  though  they  did  not  look 
it.  There  seemed  nothing  unusual  about 
them,  while  they  would  have  passed  muster 
as  fair  specimens  of  lumbermen  in  any  Michi 
gan  camp.  But  outside,  in  the  darkness, 
where  holes  yawned  in  the  ground,  were  many 
men  engaged  in  windlassing  muck  and  gravel 
and  gold  from  the  bottoms  of  the  holes  where 
other  men  received  fifteen  dollars  per  day  for 


THE    FAITH    OF    MEN  71 

scraping  it  from  off  the  bedrock.  Each  day 
thousands  of  dollars'  worth  of  gold  were 
scraped  from  bedrock  and  windlassed  to  the 
surface,  and  it  all  belonged  to  Pentfield  and 
Hutchinson,  who  took  their  rank  among  the 
richest  kings  of  Bonanza. 

Pentfield  broke  the  silence  that  followed 
on  Billebedam's  departure  by  heaping  the 
dirty  plates  higher  on  the  table  and  drum 
ming  a  tattoo  on  the  cleared  space  with  his 
knuckles.  Hutchinson  snuffed  the  smoky 
candle  and  reflectively  rubbed  the  soot  from 
the  wick  between  thumb  and  forefinger. 

"  By  Jove,  I  wish  we  could  both  go  out!" 
he  abruptly  exclaimed.  "  That  would  settle 
it  all." 

Pentfield  looked  at  him  darkly. 

"  If  it  weren't  for  your  cursed  obstinacy, 
it'd  be  settled  anyway.  All  you  have  to  do 
is  get  up  and  get.  I'll  look  after  things, 
and  next  year  I  can  go  out." 

"  Why  should  I  go  ?  I've  no  one  waiting 
forme—" 

"Your  people,"  Pentfield  broke  in  roughly. 


72  THE   FAITH    OF   MEN 

"  Like    you    have/'    Hutchinson    went    on. 
"  A  girl,  I  mean,  and  you  know  it." 

Pentfield  shrugged  his  shoulders  gloomily. 
"  She  can  wait,  I  guess." 
"  But  she's  been  waiting  two  years  now." 
"  And  another  won't  age  her  beyond  recog 


nition." 


"  That'd  be  three  years.  Think  of  it,  old 
man,  three  years  in  this  end  of  the  earth,  this 
falling-off  place  for  the  damned  !  "  Hutchin 
son  threw  up  his  arm  in  an  almost  articulate 
groan. 

He  was  several  years  younger  than  his 
partner,  not  more  than  twenty-six,  and  there 
was  a  certain  wistfulness  in  his  face  that 
comes  into  the  faces  of  men  when  they  yearn 
vainly  for  the  things  they  have  been  long 
denied.  This  same  wistfulness  was  in  Pent- 
field's  face,  and  the  groan  of  it  was  articulate 
in  the  heave  of  his  shoulders. 

"  I  dreamed  last  night  I  was  in  Zin- 
kand's,"  he  said.  "  The  music  playing,  glasses 
clinking,  voices  humming,  women  laughing, 
and  I  was  ordering  eggs  —  yes,  sir,  eggs. 


THE   FAITH    OF    MEN  73 

fried  and  boiled  and  poached  and  scrambled, 
and  in  all  sorts  of  ways,  and  downing  them 
as  fast  as  they  arrived." 

"  I'd  have  ordered  salads  and  green  things," 
Hutchinson  criticised  hungrily,  "  with  a  big, 
rare  porterhouse,  and  young  onions  and  rad 
ishes,  the  kind  your  teeth  sink  into  with  a 
crunch." 

"  I'd  have  followed  the  eggs  with  them, 
I  guess,  if  I  hadn't  awakened,"  Pentfield 
replied. 

He  picked  up  a  trail-scarred  banjo  from  the 
floor  and  began  to  strum  a  few  wandering  notes. 
Hutchinson  winced  and  breathed  heavily. 

"  Quit  it !  "  he  burst  out  with  sudden  fury, 
as  the  other  struck  into  a  gayly  lilting  swing. 
"  It  drives  me  mad.  I  can't  stand  it." 

Pentfield  tossed  the  banjo  into  a  bunk  and 
quoted  :  — 

"  Hear  me  babble  what  the  weakest  won't  confess  — 

I  am  Memory  and  Torment  —  I  am  Town  ! 
I  am  all  that  ever  went  with  evening  dress  !  " 

The  other  man  winced  where  he  sat  and 
dropped  his  head  forward  on  the  table.  Pent- 


74  THE    FAITH    OF    MEN 

field  resumed  the  monotonous  drumming  with 
his  knuckles.  A  loud  snap  from  the  door 
attracted  his  attention.  The  frost  was  creep 
ing  up  the  inside  in  a  white  sheet,  and  he 
began  to  hum  :  — 

«'  The  flocks  are  folded,  boughs  are  bare, 

The  salmon  takes  the  sea  ; 
And  oh,  my  fair,  would  I  somewhere 
Might  house  my  heart  with  thee." 

Silence  fell  and  was  not  again  broken  till 
Billebedam  arrived  and  threw  the  dice  box 
on  the  table. 

"  Um  much  cold/'  he  said.  "  Oleson  um 
speak  to  me,  um  say  um  Yukon  freeze  last 
night." 

"  Hear  that,  old  man  ! "  Pentfield  cried, 
slapping  Hutchinson  on  the  shoulder.  "Who 
ever  wins  can  be  hitting  the  trail  for  God's 
country  this  time  to-morrow  morning !  " 

He  picked  up  the  box,  briskly  rattling  the 
dice. 

"  What'll  it  be  ?  " 

"  Straight  poker  dice,"  Hutchinson  an 
swered.  "  Go  on  and  roll  them  out." 


THE   FAITH    OF    MEN  75 

Pentfield  swept  the  dishes  from  the  table 
with  a  crash,  and  rolled  out  the  five  dice. 
Both  looked  eagerly.  The  shake  was  without 
a  pair  and  five-spot  high. 

"A  stiff!"  Pentfield  groaned. 

After  much  deliberating  Pentfield  picked 
up  all  the  five  dice  and  put  them  in  the 
box. 

"  I'd  shake  to  the  five  if  I  were  you/' 
Hutchinson  suggested. 

"  No,  you  wouldn't,  not  when  you  see  this," 
Pentfield  replied,  shaking  out  the  dice. 

Again  they  were  without  a  pair,  running  this 
time  in  unbroken  sequence  from  two  to  six. 

"A  second  stiff!"  he  groaned.  "No  use 
your  shaking,  Corry.  You  can't  lose." 

The  other  man  gathered  up  the  dice  with 
out  a  word,  rattled  them,  rolled  them  out 
on  the  table  with  a  flourish,  and  saw  that  he 
had  likewise  shaken  a  six-high  stiff. 

"  Tied  you,  anyway,  but  I'll  have  to  do 
better  than  that,"  he  said,  gathering  in  four 
of  them  and  shaking  to  the  six.  "And 
here's  what  beats  you." 


76  THE   FAITH    OF   MEN 

But  they  rolled  out  deuce,  tray,  four,  and 
five,  —  a  stiff  still  and  no  better  nor  worse 
than  Pentfield's  throw. 

Hutchinson  sighed. 

"  Couldn't  happen  once  in  a  million  times," 
he  said. 

"  Nor  in  a  million  lives,"  Pentfield  added, 
catching  up  the  dice  and  quickly  throwing 
them  out.  Three  fives  appeared,  and,  after 
much  delay,  he  was  rewarded  by  a  fourth 
five  on  the  second  shake.  Hutchinson  seemed 
to  have  lost  his  last  hope. 

But  three  sixes  turned  up  on  his  first  shake. 
A  great  doubt  rose  in  the  other's  eyes,  and 
hope  returned  into  his.  He  had  one  more 
shake.  Another  six  and  he  would  go  over 
the  ice  to  salt  water  and  the  states. 

He  rattled  the  dice  in  the  box,  made  as 
though  to  cast  them,  hesitated,  and  continued 
to  rattle  them. 

"  Go  on  !  Go  on  !  Don't  take  all  night 
about  it ! "  Pentfield  cried  sharply,  bending 
his  nails  on  the  table,  so  tight  was  the  clutch 
with  which  he  strove  to  control  himself. 


THE    FAITH    OF    MEN  77 

The  dice  rolled  forth,  an  upturned  six 
meeting  their  eyes.  Both  men  sat  staring  at 
it.  There  was  a  long  silence.  Hutchinson 
shot  a  covert  glance  at  his  partner,  who,  still 
more  covertly,  caught  it,  and  pursed  up  his 
lips  in  an  attempt  to  advertise  his  unconcern. 

Hutchinson  laughed  as  he  got  up  on  his 
feet.  It  was  a  nervous,  apprehensive  laugh. 
It  was  a  case  where  it  was  more  awkward  to 
win  than  lose.  He  walked  over  to  his  partner, 
who  whirled  upon  him  fiercely '.  — 

"  Now  you  just  shut  up,  Corry  !  I  know 
all  you're  going  to  say  —  that  you'd  rather 
stay  in  and  let  me  go,  and  all  that ;  so  don't 
say  it.  You've  your  own  people  in  Detroit 
to  see,  and  that's  enough.  Besides,  you  can 
do  for  me  the  very  thing  I  expected  to  da 
if  I  went  out." 

"And  that  is  —  ?" 

Pentfield  read  the  full  question  in  his  part 
ner's  eyes,  and  answered  :  — 

"  Yes,  that  very  thing.  You  can  bring  her  in 
to  me.  The  only  difference  will  be  a  Dawson 
wedding  instead  of  a  San  Franciscan  one." 


;8  THE    FAITH    OF   MEN 

"But  man  alive  I"  Carry  Hutchinson  ob 
jected.  "  How  under  the  sun  can  I  bring  her 
in  ?  We're  not  exactly  brother  and  sister, 
seeing  that  I  have  not  even  met  her,  and  it 
wouldn't  be  just  the  proper  thing,  you  know, 
for  us  to  travel  together.  Of  course,  it  would 
be  all  right  —  you  and  I  know  that;  but 
think  of  the  looks  of  it,  man  ! " 

Pentfield  swore  under  his  breath,  consigning 
the  looks  of  it  to  a  less  frigid  region  than 
Alaska. 

"  Now,  if  you'll  just  listen  and  not  get 
astride  that  high  horse  of  yours  so  blamed 
quick,"  his  partner  went  on,  "  you'll  see  that 
the  only  fair  thing  under  the  circumstances 
is  for  me  to  let  you  go  out  this  year.  Next 
year  is  only  a  year  away,  and  then  I  can  take 
my  fling." 

Pentfield  shook  his  head,  though  visibly 
swayed  by  the  temptation. 

"  It  won't  do,  Corry,  old  man.  I  appreciate 
your  kindness  and  all  that,  but  it  won't  do. 
I'd  be  ashamed  every  time  I  thought  of  you 
slaving  away  in  here  in  my  place." 


THE    FAITH    OF    MEN  79 

A  thought  seemed  suddenly  to  strike  him. 
Burrowing  into  his  bunk  and  disrupting  it  in 
his  eagerness,  he  secured  a  writing  pad  and 
pencil,  and  sitting  down  at  the  table,  began 
to  write  with  swiftness  and  certitude. 

"  Here,"  he  said,  thrusting  the  scrawled 
letter  into  his  partner's  hand.  "  You  just 
deliver  that  and  everything'll  be  all  right." 

Hutchinson  ran  his  eye  over  it  and  laid  it 
down. 

"  How  do  you  know  the  brother  will  be 
willing  to  make  that  beastly  trip  in  here  ?  " 
he  demanded. 

"Oh,  he'll  do  it  for  me  —  and  for  his 
sister,"  Pentfield  replied.  "  You  see,  he's 
tenderfoot,  and  I  wouldn't  trust  her  with  him 
alone.  But  with  you  along  it  will  be  an  easy 
trip  and  a  safe  one.  As  soon  as  you  get  out, 
you'll  go  to  her  and  prepare  her.  Then  you 
can  take  your  run  East  to  your  own  people,  and 
in  the  spring  she  and  her  brother'll  be  ready 
to  start  with  you.  You'll  like  her,  I  know, 
right  from  the  jump ;  and  from  that,  you'll 
know  her  as  soon  as  you  lay  eyes  on  her." 


8o  THE   FAITH    OF    MEN 

So  saying  he  opened  the  back  of  his  watch 
and  exposed  a  girl's  photograph  pasted  on  the 
inside  of  the  case.  Corry  Hutchinson  gazed 
at  it  with  admiration  welling  up  in  his  eyes. 

"  Mabel  is  her  name,"  Pentfield  went  on. 
<c  And  it's  just  as  well  you  should  know  how 
to  find  the  house.  Soon  as  you  strike  'Frisco, 
take  a  cab  and  just  say,  c  Holmes's  place, 
Myrdon  Avenue  '  —  I  doubt  if  the  Myrdon 
Avenue  is  necessary.  The  cabby'll  know 
where  Judge  Holmes  lives/' 

"And  say,"  Pentfield  continued,  after  a 
pause,  "  it  won't  be  a  bad  idea  for  you  to  get 
me  a  few  little  things  which  —  a — er  —  " 

"A  married  man  should  have  in  his  busi 
ness,"  Hutchinson  blurted  out  with  a  grin. 

Pentfield  grinned  back. 

"  Sure,  napkins  and  tablecloths  and  sheets 
and  pillowslips,  and  such  things.  And  you 
might  get  a  good  set  of  china.  You  know 
it'll  come  hard  for  her  to  settle  down  to  this 
sort  of  thing.  You  can  freight  them  in  by 
steamer  around  by  Bering  Sea.  And,  I  say, 
what's  the  matter  with  a  piano?  " 


THE   FAITH    OF   MEN  8r 

Hutchinson  seconded  the  idea  heartily.  His 
reluctance  had  vanished,  and  he  was  warming 
up  to  his  mission. 

"  By  Jove !  Lawrence, "  he  said  at  the  con 
clusion  of  the  council,  as  they  both  rose  to 
their  feet,  "  I'll  bring  back  that  girl  of  yours 
in  style.  I'll  do  the  cooking  and  take  care 
of  the  dogs,  and  all  that  brother'll  have  to  do 
will  be  to  see  to  her  comfort  and  do  for  her 
whatever  I've  forgotten.  And  I'll  forget  damn 
little,  I  can  tell  you.'* 

The  next  day  Lawrence  Pentfield  shook 
hands  with  him  for  the  last  time  and  watched 
him,  running  with  his  dogs,  disappear  up  the 
frozen  Yukon  on  his  way  to  salt  water  and  the 
world.  Pentfield  went  back  to  his  Bonanza 
mine,  which  was  many  times  more  dreary  than 
before,  and  faced  resolutely  into  the  long 
winter.  There  was  work  to  be  done,  men 
to  superintend,  and  operations  to  direct  in 
burrowing  after  the  erratic  pay  streak ;  but 
his  heart  was  not  in  the  work.  Nor  was  his 
heart  in  any  work  till  the  tiered  logs  of  a  new 
cabin  began  to  rise  on  the  hill  behind  the 


82  THE   FAITH    OF   MEN 

mine.  It  was  a  grand  cabin,  warmly  built 
and  divided  into  three  comfortable  rooms. 
Each  log  was  hand-hewed  and  squared  —  an 
expensive  whim  when  the  axemen  received  a 
daily  wage  of  fifteen  dollars ;  but  to  him  noth 
ing  could  be  too  costly  for  the  home  in  which 
Mabel  Holmes  was  to  live. 

So  he  went  about  with  the  building  of  the 
cabin,  singing,  cc  And  oh,  my  fair,  would  I 
somewhere  might  house  my  heart  with  thee  ! " 
Also,  he  had  a  calendar  pinned  on  the  wall 
above  the  table,  and  his  first  act  each  morning 
was  to  check  off  the  day  and  to  count  the  days 
that  were  left  ere  his  partner  would  come 
booming  down  the  Yukon  ice  in  the  spring. 
Another  whim  of  his  was  to  permit  no  one  to 
sleep  in  the  new  cabin  on  the  hill.  It  must  be 
as  fresh  for  her  occupancy  as  the  square- hewed 
wood  was  fresh  ;  and  when  it  stood  complete, 
he  put  a  padlock  on  the  door.  No  one 
entered  save  himself,  and  he  was  wont  to 
spend  long  hours  there,  and  to  come  forth 
with  his  face  strangely  radiant  and  in  his  eyes 
a  glad,  warm  light. 


THE    FAITH    OF   MEN  83 

In  December  he  received  a  letter  from 
Corry  Hutchinson.  He  had  just  seen  Mabel 
Holmes.  She  was  all  she  ought  to  be,  to  be 
Lawrence  Pentfield's  wife,  he  wrote.  He  was 
enthusiastic,  and  his  letter  sent  the  blood  tin 
gling  through  Pentfield's  veins.  Other  letters 
followed,  one  on  the  heels  of  another  and 
sometimes  two  or  three  together  when  the  mail 
lumped  up.  And  they  were  all  in  the  same 
tenor.  Corry  had  just  come  from  Myrdon 
Avenue ;  Corry  was  just  going  to  Myrdon 
Avenue;  or  Corry  was  at  Myrdon  Avenue, 

C^ 

And  he  lingered  on  and  on  in  San  Francisco, 
nor  even  mentioned  his  trip  to  Detroit. 

Lawrence  Pentfield  began  to  think  that  his 
partner  was  a  great  deal  in  the  company  of 
Mabel  Holmes  for  a  fellow  who  was  going 
East  to  see  his  people.  He  even  caught  him 
self  worrying  about  it  at  times,  though  he 
would  have  worried  more  had  he  not  known 
Mabel  and  Corry  so  well.  Mabel's  letters,  on 
the  other  hand,  had  a  great  deal  to  say  about 
Corry.  Also,  a  thread  of  timidity  that  was 
near  to  disinclination  ran  through  them  con- 


$4  THE   FAITH    OF   MEN 

earning  the  trip  in  over  the  ice  and  the  Daw- 
son  marriage.  Pentfield  wrote  back  heartily, 
laughing  at  her  fears,  which  he  took  to  be  the 
mere  physical  ones  of  danger  and  hardship 
rather  than  those  bred  of  maidenly  reserve. 

But  the  long  winter  and  tedious  wait,  follow 
ing  upon  the  two  previous  long  winters,  were 
telling  upon  him.  The  superintendence  of  the 
men  and  the  pursuit  of  the  pay  streak  could 
not  break  the  irk  of  the  daily  round,  and  the 
end  of  January  found  him  making  occasional 
trips  to  Dawson,  where  he  could  forget  his 
identity  for  a  space  at  the  gambling  tables. 
Because  he  could  afford  to  lose,  he  won,  and 
"  Pentfield's  luck "  became  a  stock  phrase 
;among  the  faro  players. 

His  luck  ran  with  him  till  the  second  week 
in  February.  How  much  farther  it  might 
have  run  is  conjectural ;  for,  after  one  big 
game,  he  never  played  again. 

It  was  in  the  Opera  House  that  it  occurred, 
and  for  an  hour  it  had  seemed  that  he  could 
not  place  his  money  on  a  card  without  making 
the  card  a  winner.  In  the  lull  at  the  end  of  a 


THE    FAITH    OF    MEN  85 

deal,  while  the  game  keeper  was  shuffling  the 
deck,  Nick  Inwood,  the  owner  of  the  game, 
remarked,  apropos  of  nothing  :  — 

"  I  say,  Pentfield,  I  see  that  partner  of  yours 
has  been  cutting  up  monkeyshines  on  the 
outside." 

"  Trust  Corry  to  have  a  good  time,"  Pent- 
field  had  answered ;  "  especially  when  he  has 
earned  it." 

"  Every  man  to  his  taste,"  Nick  Inwood 
laughed ;  "  but  I  should  scarcely  call  getting 
married  a  good  time." 

"  Corry  married  !  "  Pentfield  cried,  incredu 
lous  and  yet  surprised  out  of  himself  for  the 
moment. 

"Sure,"  Inwood  said.  "  I  saw  it  in  the 
'Frisco  paper  that  came  in  over  the  ice  this 
morning." 

"  Well,  and  who's  the  girl  ? "  Pentfield  de 
manded,  somewhat  with  the  air  of  patient 
fortitude  with  which  one  takes  the  bait  of  a 
catch  and  is  aware  at  the  time  of  the  large 
laugh  bound  to  follow  at  his  expense. 

Nick    Inwood    pulled    the   newspaper    from 


86  THE    FAITH    OF    MEN 

his  pocket  and  began  looking  it  over,  say 
ing  :— 

cc  I  haven't  a  remarkable  memory  for 
names,  but  it  seems  to  me  it's  something 
like  Mabel  —  Mabel  —  oh,  yes,  here  is  it  — 
<  Mabel  Holmes,  daughter  of  Judge  Holmes, 
—  whoever  he  is." 

Lawrence  Pentfield  never  turned  a  hair, 
though  he  wondered  how  any  man  in  the 
North  could  know  her  name.  He  glanced 
coolly  from  face  to  face  to  note  any  vagrant 
signs  of  the  game  that  was  being  played  upon 
him,  but  beyond  a  healthy  curiosity  the  faces 
betrayed  nothing.  Then  he  turned  to  the 
gambler  and  said  in  cold,  even  tones :  — 

"  Inwood,  I've  got  an  even  five  hundred 
here  that  says  the  print  of  what  you  have 
just  said  is  not  in  that  paper." 

The  gambler  looked  at  him  in  quizzical 
surprise. 

"  Go  'way,  child.  I  don't  want  your 
money." 

"  I  thought  so,"  Pentfield  sneered,  return 
ing  to  the  game  and  laying  a  couple  of  bets. 


THE   FAITH    OF    MEN  87 

Nick  Inwood's  face  flushed,  and,  as  though 
doubting  his  senses,  he  ran  careful  eyes  over 
the  print  of  a  quarter  of  a  column.  Then  he 
turned  on  Lawrence  Pentfield. 

"  Look  here,  Pentfield,"  he  said,  in  quick, 
nervous  manner ;  "  I  can't  allow  that,  you 
know." 

"  Allow  what  ?  "  Pentfield  demanded  bru 
tally. 

"You  implied  that  I   lied." 

"  Nothing  of  the  sort,"  came  the  reply. 
"  I  merely  implied  that  you  were  trying  to 
be  clumsily  witty." 

"  Make  your  bets,  gentlemen,"  the  dealer 
protested. 

"  But  I  tell  you  it's  true,"  Nick  Inwood 
insisted. 

"And  I  have  told  you  I've  five  hundred 
that  says  it's  not  in  that  paper,"  Pentfield 
answered,  at  the  same  time  throwing  a  heavy 
sack  of  dust  on  the  table. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  take  your  money,"  was  the 
retort,  as  Inwood  thrust  the  newspaper  into 
Pentfield's  hand. 


88  THE    FAITH    OF    MEN 

Pentfield  saw,  though  he  could  not  quite 
bring  himself  to  believe.  Glancing  through 
the  headline,  "  Young  Lochinvar  came  out 
of  the  North,"  and  skimming  the  article  until 
the  names  of  Mabel  Holmes  and  Corry 
Hutchinson,  coupled  together,  leaped  squarely 
before  his  eyes,  he  turned  to  the  top  of  the 
page.  It  was  a  San  Francisco  paper. 

"  The  money's  yours,  Inwood,"  he  re 
marked,  with  a  short  laugh.  "  There's  no 
telling  what  that  partner  of  mine  will  do 
when  he  gets  started." 

Then  he  returned  to  the  article  and  read 
it  word  for  word,  very  slowly  and  very  care 
fully.  He  could  no  longer  doubt.  Beyond 
dispute,  Corry  Hutchinson  had  married  Mabel 
Holmes.  "  One  of  the  Bonanza  kings,"  it 
described  him,  "  a  partner  with  Lawrence 
Pentfield  (whom  San  Francisco  society  has 
not  yet  forgotten),  and  interested  with  that 
gentleman  in  other  rich  Klondike  properties." 
Further,  and  at  the  end,  he  read,  "  It  is 
whispered  that  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hutchinson 
will,  after  a  brief  trip  east  to  Detroit,  make 


THE    FAITH    OF    MEN  89 

their  real  honeymoon  journey  into  the  fasci 
nating  Klondike  country." 

"  I'll  be  back  again ;  keep  my  place  for 
me,"  Pentfield  said,  rising  to  his  feet  and 
taking  his  sack,  which  meantime  had  hit  the 
blower  and  came  back  lighter  by  five  hun 
dred  dollars. 

He  went  down  the  street  and  bought  a 
Seattle  paper.  It  contained  the  same  facts, 
though  somewhat  condensed.  Corry  and 
Mabel  were  indubitably  married.  Pentfield 
returned  to  the  Opera  House  and  resumed 
his  seat  in  the  game.  He  asked  to  have  the 
limit  removed. 

"  Trying  to  get  action,"  Nick  Inwood 
laughed,  as  he  nodded  assent  to  the  dealer. 
"  I  was  going  down  to  the  A.  C.  store,  but 
now  I  guess  I'll  stay  and  watch  you  do  your 


worst." 


This  Lawrence  Pentfield  did  at  the  end 
of  two  hours'  plunging,  when  the  dealer  bit 
the  end  off  a  fresh  cigar  and  struck  a  match 
as  he  announced  that  the  bank  was  broken. 
Pentfield  cashed  in  for  forty  thousand,  shook 


90  THE    FAITH    OF    MEN 

hands  with  Nick  Inwood,  and  stated  that  it 
was  the  last  time  he  would  ever  play  at  his 
game  or  at  anybody  else's. 

No  one  knew  nor  guessed  that  he  had 
been  hit,  much  less  hit  hard.  There  was 
no  apparent  change  in  his  manner.  For  a 
week  he  went  about  his  work  much  as  he 
had  always  done,  when  he  read  an  account 
of  the  marriage  in  a  Portland  paper.  Then 
he  called  in  a  friend  to  take  charge  of  his 
mine  and  departed  up  the  Yukon  behind  his 
dogs.  He  held  to  the  Salt  Water  trail  till 
White  River  was  reached,  into  which  he 
turned.  Five  days  later  he  came  upon  a 
hunting  camp  of  the  White  River  Indians. 
In  the  evening  there  was  a  feast,  and  he  sat 
in  honor  beside  the  chief;  and  next  morning 
he  headed  his  dogs  back  toward  the  Yukon. 
But  he  no  longer  travelled  alone.  A  young 
squaw  fed  his  dogs  for  him  that  night  and 
helped  to  pitch  camp.  She  had  been  mauled 
by  a  bear  in  her  childhood  and  suffered  from 
a  slight  limp.  Her  name  was  Lashka,  and 
she  was  diffident  at  first  with  the  strange  white 


THE   FAITH    OF   MEN  91 

man  that  had  come  out  of  the  Unknown, 
married  her  with  scarcely  a  look  or  word,  and 
now  was  carrying  her  back  with  him  into  the 
Unknown. 

But  Lashka's  was  better  fortune  than  falls 
to  most  Indian  girls  that  mate  with  white  men 
in  the  Northland.  No  sooner  was  Dawson 
reached  than  the  barbaric  marriage  that  had 
joined  them  was  resolemnized,  in  the  white 
man's  fashion,  before  a  priest.  From  Daw- 
son,  which  to  her  was  all  a  marvel  and  a 
dream,  she  was  taken  directly  to  the  Bonanza 
claim  and  installed  in  the  square-hewed  cabin 
on  the  hill. 

The  nine  days'  wonder  that  followed  arose 
not  so  much  out  of  the  fact  of  the  squaw 
whom  Lawrence  Pentfield  had  taken  to  bed 
and  board  as  out  of  the  ceremony  that  had 
legalized  the  tie.  The  properly  sanctioned 
marriage  was  the  one  thing  that  passed  the 
community's  comprehension.  But  no  one 
bothered  Pentfield  about  it.  So  long  as  a 
man's  vagaries  did  no  special  hurt  to  the  com 
munity,  the  community  let  the  man  alone, 


92  THE   FAITH    OF    MEN 

nor  was  Pentfield  barred  from  the  cabins  of 
men  who  possessed  white  wives.  The  mar 
riage  ceremony  removed  him  from  the  status 
of  squaw-man  and  placed  him  beyond  moral 
reproach,  though  there  were  men  that  chal 
lenged  his  taste  where  women  were  concerned. 

No  more  letters  arrived  from  the  outside. 
Six  sledloads  of  mail  had  been  lost  at  the 
Big  Salmon.  Besides,  Pentfield  knew  that 
Corry  and  his  bride  must  by  that  time  have 
started  in  over  the  trail.  They  were  even 
then  on  their  honeymoon  trip  —  the  honey 
moon  trip  he  had  dreamed  of  for  himself 
through  two  dreary  years.  His  lip  curled 
with  bitterness  at  the  thought ;  but  beyond 
being  kinder  to  Lashka  he  gave  no  sign. 

March  had  passed  and  April  was  nearing 
its  end,  when,  one  spring  morning,  Lashka 
asked  permission  to  go  down  the  creek  sev 
eral  miles  to  Siwash  Pete's  cabin.  Pete's 
wife,  a  Stewart  River  woman,  had  sent  up 
word  that  something  was  wrong  with  her 
baby,  and  Lashka,  who  was  preeminently  a 
mother-woman  and  who  held  herself  to  be 


THE    FAITH    OF    MEN  93 

truly  wise  in  the  matter  of  infantile  troubles,, 
missed  no  opportunity  of  nursing  the  chil 
dren  of  other  women  as  yet  more  fortunate 
than  she. 

Pentfield  harnessed  his  dogs,  and  with 
Lashka  behind  took  the  trail  down  the  creek 
bed  of  Bonanza.  Spring  was  in  the  air.  The 
sharpness  had  gone  out  of  the  bite  of  the 
frost,  and  though  snow  still  covered  the  land, 
the  murmur  and  trickling  of  water  told  that 
the  iron  grip  of  winter  was  relaxing.  The 
bottom  was  dropping  out  of  the  trail,  and  here 
and  there  a  new  trail  had  been  broken  around 
open  holes.  At  such  a  place,  where  there 
was  not  room  for  two  sleds  to  pass,  Pentfield 
heard  the  jingle  of  approaching  bells  and 
stopped  his  dogs. 

A  team  of  tired-looking  dogs  appeared 
around  the  narrow  bend,  followed  by  a 
heavily  loaded  sled.  At  the  gee-pole  was  a 
man  who  steered  in  a  manner  familiar  to 
Pentfield,  and  behind  the  sled  walked  two 
women.  His  glance  returned  to  the  man  at 
the  gee-pole.  It  was  Corry.  Pentfieid  got 


94  THE    FAITH    OF    MEN 

on  his  feet  and  waited.  He  was  glad  that 
Lashka  was  with  him.  The  meeting  could 
not  have  come  about  better  had  it  been 
planned,  he  thought.  And  as  he  waited  he 
wondered  what  they  would  say,  what  they 
would  be  able  to  say.  As  for  himself  there 
was  no  need  to  say  anything.  The  explain 
ing  was  all  on  their  side,  and  he  was  ready 
to  listen  to  them. 

As  they  drew  in  abreast,  Corry  recognized 
him  and  halted  the  dogs.  With  a  "  Hello, 
old  man,"  he  held  out  his  hand. 

Pentfield  shook  it,  but  without  warmth  or 
speech.  By  this  time  the  two  women  had 
come  up,  and  he  noticed  that  the  second  one 
was  Dora  Holmes.  He  doffed  his  fur  cap, 
the  flaps  of  which  were  flying,  shook  hands 
with  her,  and  turned  toward  Mabel.  She 
swayed  forward,  splendid  and  radiant,  but  fal 
tered  before  his  outstretched  hand.  He  had 
intended  to  say,"  How  do  you  do,  Mrs.  Hutch- 
inson  ?  "  —  but  somehow,  the  Mrs.  Hutchin- 
son  had  choked  him,  and  all  he  had  managed 
to  articulate  was  the  "  How  do  you  do  ? " 


THE    FAITH    OF    MEN  93. 

There  was  all  the  constraint  and  awkward 
ness  in  the  situation  he  could  have  wished. 
Mabel  betrayed  the  agitation  appropriate  to  her 
position,  while  Dora,  evidently  brought  along 
as  some  sort  of  peacemaker,  was  saying :  — 

"  Why,   what  is  the   matter,   Lawrence  ? " 

Before  he  could  answer,  Corry  plucked  him 
by  the  sleeve  and  drew  him  aside. 

"  See  here,  old  man,  what's  this  mean  ?  " 
Corry  demanded  in  a  low  tone,  indicating 
Lashka  with  his  eyes. 

"  I  can  hardly  see,  Corry,  where  you  can 
have  any  concern  in  the  matter,"  Pentfield 
answered  mockingly. 

But   Corry   drove  straight  to  the   point. 

"  What  is  that  squaw  doing  on  your  sled  ? 
A  nasty  job  you've  given  me  to  explain  all 
this  away.  I  only  hope  it  can  be  explained 
away.  Who  is  she  ?  Whose  squaw  is  she  ?  " 

Then  Lawrence  Pentfield  delivered  his 
stroke,  and  he  delivered  it  with  a  certain  calm 
elation  of  spirit  that  seemed  somewhat  to  com 
pensate  for  the  wrong  that  had  been  done 
him. 


. 


96  THE   FAITH    OF   MEN 

"  She  is  my  squaw,"  he  said ;  "  Mrs. 
Pentfield,  if  you  please." 

Corry  Hutchinson  gasped,  and  Pentfield 
left  him  and  returned  to  the  two  women. 
Mabel,  with  a  worried  expression  on  her  face, 
seemed  holding  herself  aloof.  He  turned  to 
Dora  and  asked,  quite  genially,  as  though 
all  the  world  was  sunshine :  — 

"  How  did  you  stand  the  trip,  anyway  ? 
Have  any  trouble  to  sleep  warm  ?  " 

"  And  how  did  Mrs.  Hutchinson  stand 
it  ?  "  he  asked  next,  his  eyes  on  Mabel. 

"  Oh,  you  dear  ninny  !  "  Dora  cried,  throw 
ing  her  arms  around  him  and  hugging  him. 
"  Then  you  saw  it,  too  !  I  thought  some 
thing  was  the  matter,  you  were  acting  so 
strangely." 

"I  —  I  hardly  understand,"  he  stammered. 

"It  was  corrected  in  next  day's  paper," 
Dora  chattered  on.  "  We  did  not  dream 
you  would  see  it.  All  the  other  papers  had 
it  correctly,  and  of  course  that  one  miserable 
paper  was  the  very  one  you  saw !  " 

"  Wait  a  moment !     What  do  you  mean  ?  " 


THE    FAITH    OF   MEN  97 

Pentfield  demanded,  a  sudden  fear  at  his 
heart,  for  he  felt  himself  on  the  verge  of  a 
great  gulf. 

But  Dora  swept  volubly  on. 

"  Why,  when  it  became  known  that  Mabel 
and  I  were  going  to  Klondike,  Every  Other 
Week  said  that  when  we  were  gone,  it  would 
be  lovely  on  Myrdon  Avenue,  meaning,  of 
course,  lonely." 

"Then—" 

"  I  am  Mrs.  Hutchinson,"  Dora  answered. 
"And  you  thought  it  was  Mabel  all  the  time." 

"  Precisely  the  way  of  it,"  Pentfield  replied 
slowly.  "  But  I  can  see  now.  The  reporter 
got  the  names  mixed.  The  Seattle  and  Port 
land  papers  copied." 

He  stood  silently  for  a  minute.  Mabel's 
face  was  turned  toward  him  again,  and  he 
could  see  the  glow  of  expectancy  in  it.  Corry 
was  deeply  interested  in  the  ragged  toe  of 
one  of  his  moccasins,  while  Dora  was  steal 
ing  sidelong  glances  at  the  immobile  face 
of  Lashka  sitting  on  the  sled.  Lawrence 
Pentfield  stared  straight  out  before  him  into 


98  THE   FAITH    OF   MEN 

a  dreary  future,  through  the  gray  vistas  of 
which  he  saw  himself  riding  on  a  sled  behind 
running  dogs  with  lame  Lashka  by  his  side. 

Then  he  spoke,  quite  simply,  looking 
Mabel  in  the  eyes. 

cc  I  am  very  sorry.  I  did  not  dream  it. 
I  thought  you  had  married  Corry.  That  is 
Mrs.  Pentfield  sitting  on  the  sled  over  there." 

Mabel  Holmes  turned  weakly  toward  her 
sister,  as  though  all  the  fatigue  of  her  great 
journey  had  suddenly  descended  on  her. 
Dora  caught  her  around  the  waist.  Corry 
Hutchinson  was  still  occupied  with  his  moc 
casins.  Pentfield  glanced  quickly  from  face 
to  face,  then  turned  to  his  sled. 

cc  Can't  stop  here  all  day,  with  Pete's  baby 
waiting,"  he  said  to  Lashka. 

The  long  whip-lash  hissed  out,  the  dogs 
sprang  against  the  breast  bands,  and  the  sled 
lurched  and  jerked  ahead. 

"Oh,  I  say,  Corry,"  Pentfield  called  back, 
"  you'd  better  occupy  the  old  cabin.  It's 
not  been  used  for  some  time.  I've  built  a 
new  one  on  the  hill." 


TOO    MUCH    GOLD 


TOO    MUCH    GOLD 

THIS   being  a  story  —  and  a  truer  one 
than    it    may    appear  —  of  a    mining 
country,  it  is  quite  to  be  expected  that 
it  will  be  a  hard-luck  story.      But  that  depends 
on  the  point  of  view.      Hard  luck    is  a  mild 
way  of  terming  it  so  far  as  Kink  Mitchell  and 
Hootchinoo  Bill  are  concerned ;  and  that  they 
have    a    decided    opinion    on  the   subject  is  a 
matter  of  common  knowledge  in  the    Yukon 
country. 

It  was  in  the  fall  of  1896  that  the  two 
partners  came  down  to  the  east  bank  of  the 
Yukon,  and  drew  a  Peterborough  canoe  from 
a  moss-covered  cache.  They  were  not  partic 
ularly  pleasant-looking  objects.  A  summer's 
prospecting,  filled  to  repletion  with  hardship 
and  rather  empty  of  grub,  had  left  their  clothes 


101 


102  TOO    MUCH    GOLD 

m  tatters  and  themselves  worn  and  cadaverous, 
A  nimbus  of  mosquitoes  buzzed  about  each 
man's  head.  Their  faces  were  coated  with 
blue  clay.  Each  carried  a  lump  of  this  damp 
clay,  and,  whenever  it  dried  and  fell  from  their 
faces,  more  was  daubed  on  in  its  place.  There 
was  a  querulous  plaint  in  their  voices,  an 
irritability  of  movement  and  gesture,  that 
told  of  broken  sleep  and  a  losing  struggle  with 
the  little  winged  pests. 

"Them  skeeters'll  be  the  death  of  me  yet," 
Kink  Mitchell  whimpered,  as  the  canoe  felt 
the  current  on  her  nose,  and  leaped  out  from 
the  bank. 

"  Cheer  up,  cheer  up.  We're  about  done," 
Hootchinoo  Bill  answered,  with  an  attempted 
heartiness  in  his  funereal  tones  that  was 
ghastly.  "  We'll  be  in  Forty  Mile  in  forty 
minutes,  and  then  — cursed  little  devil !  " 

One  hand  left  his  paddle  and  landed  on  the 
back  of  his  neck  with  a  sharp  slap.  He  put  a 
fresh  daub  of  clay  on  the  injured  part,  swearing 
sulphurously  the  while.  Kink  Mitchell  was 
not  in  the  least  amused.  He  merely  improved 


TOO    MUCH    GOLD  103 

the  opportunity  by  putting  a  thicker  coating 
of  clay  on  his  own  neck. 

They  crossed  the  Yukon  to  its  west  bank, 
shot  down-s\.ream  with  easy  stroke,  and  at  the 
end  of  forty  minutes  swung  in  close  to  the  left 
around  the  tail  of  an  island.  Forty  Mile 
spread  itself  suddenly  before  them.  Both  men 
straightened  their  backs  and  gazed  at  the 
sight.  They  gazed  long  and  carefully,  drift 
ing  with  the  current,  in  their  faces  an  ex 
pression  of  mingled  surprise  and  consternation 
slowly  gathering.  Not  a  thread  of  smoke 
was  rising  from  the  hundreds  of  log-cabins. 
There  was  no  sound  of  axes  biting  sharply 
into  wood,  of  hammering  and  sawing.  Neither 
dogs  nor  men  loitered  before  the  big  store. 
No  steamboats  lay  at  the  bank,  no  canoes,  nor 
scows,  nor  poling-boats.  The  river  was  as  bare 
of  craft  as  the  town  was  of  life. 

"  Kind  of  looks  like  Gabriel's  tooted  his 
little  horn,  and  you  an*  me  has  turned  up 
missing,"  remarked  Hootchinoo  Bill. 

His  remark  was  casual,  as  though  there  was 
nothing  unusual  about  the  occurrence.  Kink 


104  TOO   MUCH    GOLD 

Mitchell's  reply  was  just  as  casual  as  though 
he,  too,  were  unaware  of  any  strange  pertur 
bation  of  spirit. 

"  Looks  as  they  was  all  Baptists,  then,  and 
took  the  boats  to  go  by  water,"  was  his 
contribution. 

"  My  oF  dad  was  a  Baptist,"  Hootchinoo 
Bill  supplemented.  "  An'  he  always  did  hold 
it  was  forty  thousand  miles  nearer  that  way." 

This  was  the  end  of  their  levity.  They 
ran  the  canoe  in  and  climbed  the  high  earth 
bank.  A  feeling  of  awe  descended  upon  them 
as  they  walked  the  deserted  streets.  The  sun 
light  streamed  placidly  over  the  town.  A 
gentle  wind  tapped  the  halyards  against  the 
flagpole  before  the  closed  doors  of  the 
Caledonia  Dance  Hail.  Mosquitoes  buzzed, 
robins  sang,  and  moose  birds  tripped  hungrily 
among  the  cabins ;  but  there  was  no  human 
life  nor  sign  of  human  life. 

"  I'm  just  dyin'  for  a  drink,"  Hootchinoo 
Bill  said,  and  unconsciously  his  voice  sank  to 
a  hoarse  whisper. 

His  partner  nodded  his  head,  loth  to   hear 


TOO    MUCH    GOLD  105 

his  own  voice  break  the  stillness.  They 
trudged  on  in  uneasy  silence  till  surprised  by 
an  open  door.  Above  this  door,  and  stretch 
ing  the  width  of  the  building,  a  rude  sign  an 
nounced  the  same  as  the  "  Monte  Carlo."  But 
beside  the  door,  hat  over  eyes,  chair  tilted 
back,  a  man  sat  sunning  himself.  He  was  an 
old  man.  Beard  and  hair  were  long  and  white 
and  patriarchal. 

"  If  it  ain't  ol'  Jim  Cummings,  turned  up 
like  us,  too  late  for  Resurrection  !  "  said  Kink 
Mitchell. 

"  Most  like  he  didn't  hear  Gabriel  tootm'," 
was  Hootchinoo  Bill's  suggestion. 

"  Hello,  Jim  !     Wake  up  !  "  he  shouted. 

The  old  man  unlimbered  lamely,  blinking  his 
eyes  and  murmuring  automatically :  "  What'll 
ye  have,  gents  ?  What'll  ye  have  ?  " 

They  followed  him  inside  and  ranged  up 
against  the  long  bar  where  of  yore  a  half-dozen 
nimble  barkeepers  found  little  time  to  loaf. 
The  great  room,  ordinarily  aroar  with  life, 
was  still  and  gloomy  as  a  tomb.  There  was 
no  rattling  of  chips,  no  whirring  of  ivory  balls. 


io6  TOO    MUCH    GOLD 

Roulette  and  faro  tables  were  like  gravestones 
under  their  canvas  covers.  No  women's  voices 
drifted  merrily  from  the  dance  room  behind. 
OF  Jim  Cummings  wiped  a  glass  with  palsied 
hands,  and  Kink  Mitchell  scrawled  his  initials 
on  the  dust-covered  bar. 

"  Where's  the  girls  ?  "  Hootchinoo  Bill 
shouted,  with  affected  geniality. 

"  Gone,"  was  the  ancient  barkeeper's  reply, 
in  a  voice  thin  and  aged  as  himself,  and  as 
unsteady  as  his  hand. 

"  Where's  Bidwell  and  Barlow  ?  " 

"  Gone." 

"  And  Sweetwater  Charley  ? " 

"  Gone." 

"  And  his  sister  ?  " 

"  Gone,  too." 

"Your  daughter  Sally,  then,  and  her  little 
kid  ? " 

cc  Gone,  all  gone."  The  old  man  shook  his 
head  sadly,  rummaging  in  an  absent  way  among 
the  dusty  bottles. 

"  Great  Sardanapolis  !  Where  ?  "  Kink 
Mitchell  exploded,  unable  longer  to  restrain 


TOO    MUCH    GOLD  107 

himself.  "  You  don't  say  you Ve  had  the 
plague  ? " 

"Why,  ain't  you  heerd?"  The  old  man 
chuckled  quietly.  "  They-all's  gone  to  Daw- 
son." 

"  What-like  is  that  ?  "  Bill  demanded.  "  A 
creek  ?  or  a  bar  ?  or  a  place  ?  " 

"  Ain't  never  heered  of  Dawson,  eh  ?  "  The 
old  man  chuckled  exasperatingly.  "  Why, 
Dawson's  a  town,  a  city,  bigger'n  Forty  Mile. 
Yes,  sir,  bigger'n  Forty  Mile." 

"I've  ben  in  this  land  seven  year,"  Bill  an 
nounced  emphatically,  "  an'  I  make  free  to  say 
I  never  heard  tell  of  the  burg  before.  Hold 
on  !  Let's  have  some  more  of  that  whiskey. 
Your  information's  flabbergasted  me,  that  it 
has.  Now  just  whereabouts  is  this  Dawson- 
place  you  was  a-mentionin'  ?  " 

"  On  the  big  flat  jest  below  the  mouth  of 
Klondike,"  ol'  Jim  answered.  "  But  where 
has  you-all  ben  this  summer  ? " 

"  Never  you  mind  where  we-all's  ben,"  was 
Kink  Mitchell's  testy  reply.  "We-all's  ben 
where  the  skeeters  is  that  thick  you've  got  to 


io8  TOO    MUCH    GOLD 

throw  a  stick  into  the  air  so  as  to  see  the 
sun  and  tell  the  time  of  day.  Ain't  I  right, 
Bill?" 

"  Right  you  are/'  said  Bill.  "  But  speakin' 
of  this  Dawson-place,  how  like  did  it  happen 
to  be,  Jim  ?  " 

"  Ounce  to  the  pan  on  a  creek  called  Bo 
nanza,  an*  they  ain't  got  to  bed-rock  yet." 

"  Who  struck  it  ?  " 

"  Carmack." 

At  mention  of  the  discoverer's  name  the 
partners  stared  at  each  other  disgustedly. 
Then  they  winked  with  great  solemnity. 

"  Siwash  George,"  sniffed  Hootchinoo  Bill. 

"That  squaw-man,"  sneered  Kink  Mitchell. 

"  I  wouldn't  put  on  my  moccasins  to  stam 
pede  after  anything  he'd  ever  find,"  said  Bill. 

"  Same  here,"  announced  his  partner.  "  A 
cuss  that's  too  plumb  lazy  to  fish  his  own 
salmon.  That's  why  he  took  up  with  the 
Indians.  S'pose  that  black  brother-in-law  of 
his,  —  lemme  see,  Skookum  Jim,  eh?  —  s'pose 
he's  in  on  it? " 

The   old    barkeeper    nodded.      "Sure,    an' 


TOO    MUCH    GOLD  109 

what's  more,  all  Forty  Mile,  exceptin'  me  an* 
a  few  cripples." 

"  And  drunks,"  added  Kink  Mitchell. 

"  No-sir-ee ! "  the  old  man  shouted  em 
phatically. 

"  I  bet  you  the  drinks  Honkins  ain't  in  on 
it !  "  Hootchinoo  Bill  cried  with  certitude. 

Ol'  Jim's  face  lighted  up.  "  I  takes  you, 
Bill,  an'  you  loses." 

"  However  did  that  ol'  soak  budge  out  of 
Forty  Mile  ?  "  Mitchell  demanded. 

"  They  ties  him  down  an'  throws  him  in  the 
bottom  of  a  polin'-boat,"  ol'  Jim  explained. 
"  Come  right  in  here,  they  did,  an'  takes  him 
out  of  that  there  chair  there  in  the  corner,  an' 
three  more  drunks  they  finds  under  the  piany. 
I  tell  you-alls  the  whole  camp  hits  up  the 
Yukon  for  Dawson  jes'  like  Sam  Scratch  was 
after  them,  —  wimmen,  children,  babes  in  arms, 
the  whole  shebang.  Bidwell  comes  to  me  an' 
sez,  sez  he,  c  Jim,  I  wants  you  to  keep  tab  on 
the  Monte  Carlo.  I'm  goinY 

" '  Where's  Barlow?'  sez  I.  'Gone,'  sez 
he,  can*  I'm  a-followin'  with  a  load  of  whis- 


no  TOO    MUCH    GOLD 

key.'  An'  with  that,  never  waitin'  for  me  to 
decline,  he  makes  a  run  for  his  boat  an'  away 
he  goes,  polin'  up  river  like  mad.  So  here 
I  be,  an'  these  is  the  first  drinks  I've  passed 
out  in  three  days." 

The  partners  looked  at  each  other. 

"  Gosh  darn  my  buttons  !  "  said  Hootchinoo 
Bill.  cc  Seems  like  you  and  me,  Kink,  is  the 
kind  of  folks  always  caught  out  with  forks 
when  it  rains  soup." 

"  Wouldn't  it  take  the  saleratus  out  your 
dough,  now?"  said  Kink  Mitchell.  "A 
stampede  of  tin  horns,  drunks,  an'  loafers." 

"An'  squaw-men,"  added  Bill.  "Not  a 
genooine  miner  in  the  whole  caboodle." 

"  Genooine  miners  like  you  an'  me,  Kink," 
he  went  on  academically,  "  is  all  out  an' 
sweatin'  hard  over  Birch  Creek  way.  Not  a 
genooine  miner  in  this  whole  crazy  Dawson 
outfit,  and  I  say  right  here,  not  a  step  do  I 
budge  for  any  Car  mack  strike.  I've  got  to 
see  the  color  of  the  dust  first." 

"Same  here,"  Mitchell  agreed.  "Let's 
have  another  drink." 


TOO    MUCH    GOLD  in 

Having  wet  this  resolution,  they  beached 
the  canoe,  transferred  its  contents  to  their 
cabin,  and  cooked  dinner.  But  as  the  after 
noon  wore  along  they  grew  restive.  They 
were  men  used  to  the  silence  of  the  great  wil 
derness,  but  this  gravelike  silence  of  a  town 
worried  them.  They  caught  themselves  lis 
tening  for  familiar  sounds  —  "  waitin'  for  some 
thing  to  make  a  noise  which  ain't  goin'  to 
make  a  noise,"  as  Bill  put  it.  They  strolled 
through  the  deserted  streets  to  the  Monte 
Carlo  for  more  drinks,  and  wandered  along 
the  river  bank  to  the  steamer  landing,  where 
only  water  gurgled  as  the  eddy  filled  and 
emptied,  and  an  occasional  salmon  leapt  flash 
ing  into  the  sun. 

They  sat  down  in  the  shade  in  front  of  the 
store  and  talked  with  the  consumptive  store 
keeper,  whose  liability  to  hemorrhage  accounted 
for  his  presence.  Bill  and  Kink  told  him  how 
they  intended  loafing  in  their  cabin  and  resting 
up  after  the  hard  summer's  work.  They  told 
him,  with  a  certain  insistence,  that  was  half 
repeal  for  belief,  half  challenge  for  contradic- 


ii2  TOO    MUCH    GOLD 

tion,  how  much  they  were  going  to  enjoy  their 
idleness.  But  the  storekeeper  was  uninterested. 
He  switched  the  conversation  back  to  the 
strike  on  Klondike,  and  they  could  not  keep 
him  away  from  it.  He  could  think  of  noth 
ing  else,  talk  of  nothing  else,  till  Hootchinoo 
Bill  rose  up  in  anger  and  disgust. 

"  Gosh  darn  Dawson,  say  I  !  "  he  cried. 

"Same  here,"  said  Kink  Mitchell,  with  a 
brightening  face.  "  One'd  think  something  was 
doin'  up  there,  'stead  of  bein'  a  mere  stampede 
of  greenhorns  an'  tinhorns." 

But  a  boat  came  into  view  from  down 
stream.  It  was  long  and  slim.  It  hugged 
the  bank  closely,  and  its  three  occupants, 
standing  upright,  propelled  it  against  the  stiff 
current  by  means  of  long  poles. 

"Circle  City  outfit,"  said  the  storekeeper. 
"  I  was  lookin'  for  'em  along  by  afternoon. 
Forty  Mile  had  the  start  of  them  by  a  hundred 
and  seventy  miles.  But  gee  !  they  ain't  losin' 
any  time  !  " 

"  We'll  just  sit  here  quietlike  and  watch  'em 
string  by,"  Bill  said  complacently. 


TOO    MUCH    GOLD  113 

As  he  spoke,  another  boat  appeared  in  sight, 
followed  after  a  brief  interval  by  two  others. 
By  this  time  the  first  boat  was  abreast  of  the 
men  on  the  bank.  Its  occupants  did  not 
cease  poling  while  greetings  were  exchanged, 
and,  though  its  progress  was  slow,  a  half  hour 
saw  it  out  of  sight  up  river. 

Still  they  came  from  below,  boat  after  boat, 
in  endless  procession.  The  uneasiness  of  Bill 
and  Kink  increased.  They  stole  speculative, 
tentative  glances  at  each  other,  and  when 
their  eyes  met,  looked  away  in  embarrassment. 
Finally,  however,  their  eyes  met  and  neither 
looked  away. 

Kink  opened  his  mouth  to  speak,  but  words 
failed  him  and  his  mouth  remained  open  while 
he  continued  to  gaze  at  his  partner. 

"Just  what  I  was  thinking  Kink,"  said  Bill. 

They  grinned  sheepishly  at  each  other,  and 
by  tacit  consent  started  to  walk  away.  Their 
pace  quickened,  and  by  the  time  they  arrived 
at  their  cabin  they  were  on  the  run. 

"  Can't  lose  no  time  with  all  that  multitude 
a-rushin'  by,"  Kink  spluttered,  as  he  jabbed 


H4  TOO    MUCH    GOLD 

the  sour-dough  can  into  the  beanpot  with  one 
hand  and  with  the  other  gathered  in  the  frying- 
pan  and  coffee-pot. 

"  Should  say  not,"  gasped  Bill,  his  head  and 
shoulders  buried  in  a  clothes-sack  wherein 
were  stored  winter  socks  and  underwear.  "  I 
say,  Kink,  don't  forget  the  saleratus  on  the 
corner  shelf  back  of  the  stove." 

Half  an  hour  later  they  were  launching  the 
canoe  and  loading  up,  while  the  storekeeper 
made  jocular  remarks  about  poor,  weak  mortals 
and  the  contagiousness  of  "  stampedin'  fever." 
But  when  Bill  and  Kink  thrust  their  long 
poles  to  bottom  and  started  the  canoe  against 
the  current,  he  called  after  them  :  — 

"  Well,  so  long  and  good  luck  !  And  don't 
forget  to  blaze  a  stake  or  two  for  me ! " 

They  nodded  their  heads  vigorously  and 
felt  sorry  for  the  poor  wretch  who  remained 

perforce  behind. 

&  &  &  &  #  % 

Kink  and  Bill  were  sweating  hard.  Accord 
ing  to  the  revised  Northland  Scripture,  the 
stampede  is  to  the  swift,  the  blazing  of  stakes 


TOO   MUCH   GOLD  115 

to  the  strong,  and  the  Crown,  in  royalties, 
gathers  to  itself  the  fulness  thereof.  Kink 
and  Bill  were  both  swift  and  strong.  They 
took  the  soggy  trail  at  a  long,  swinging  gait 
that  broke  the  hearts  of  a  couple  of  tenderfeet 
who  tried  to  keep  up  with  them.  Behind, 
strung  out  between  them  and  Dawson  (where 
the  boats  were  discarded  and  land  travel 
began),  was  the  vanguard  of  the  Circle  City 
outfit.  In  the  race  from  Forty  Mile  the 
partners  had  passed  every  boat,  winning  from 
the  leading  boat  by  a  length  in  the  Dawson 
eddy  and  leaving  its  occupants  sadly  behind 
the  moment  their  feet  struck  the  trail. 

"  Huh !  couldn't  see  us  for  smoke," 
Hootchinoo  Bill  chuckled,  flirting  the  sting 
ing  sweat  from  his  brow  and  glancing  swiftly 
back  along  the  way  they  had  come. 

Three  men  emerged  from  where  the  trail 
broke  through  the  trees.  Two  followed  close 
at  their  heels,  and  then  a  man  and  a  woman 
shot  into  view. 

"  Come  on,  you  Kink  !  Hit  her  up  !  Hit 
her  up !  " 


n6  TOO   MUCH    GOLD 

Bill  quickened  his  pace.  Mitchell  glanced 
back  in  more  leisurely  fashion. 

"  I  declare  if  they  ain't  lopin' !  " 

"And  here's  one  that's  loped  himself  out," 
said  Bill,  pointing  to  the  side  of  the  trail. 

A  man  was  lying  on  his  back,  panting,  in 
the  culminating  stages  of  violent  exhaustion. 
His  face  was  ghastly,  his  eyes  blood-shot  and 
glazed,  for  all  the  world  like  a  dying  man. 

"Chechaquo!"  Kink  Mitchell. grunted,  and 
it  was  the  grunt  of  the  old  "  sour  dough  " 
for  the  greenhorn,  for  the  man  who  outfitted 
with  "  self-risin'  "  flour  and  used  baking  pow 
der  in  his  biscuits. 

The  partners,  true  to  the  old-timer  cus 
tom,  had  intended  to  stake  down-stream  from 
the  strike,  but  when  they  saw  claim  81  Below 
blazed  on  a  tree,  —  which  meant  fully  eight 
miles  below  Discovery,  —  they  changed  their 
minds.  The  eight  miles  were  covered  in  less 
than  two  hours.  It  was  a  killing  pace,  over 
so  rough  trail,  and  they  passed  scores  of 
exhausted  men  that  had  fallen  by  the  way 
side. 


TOO    MUCH    GOLD  117 

At  Discovery  little  was  to  be  learned  of 
the  upper  creek.  Carmack's  Indian  brother- 
in-law,  Skookum  Jim,  had  a  hazy  notion 
that  the  creek  was  staked  as  high  as  the  30's; 
but  when  Kink  and  Bill  looked  at  the  corner- 
stakes  of  79  Above,  they  threw  their  stamped 
ing  packs  off  their  backs  and  sat  down  to 
smoke.  All  their  effort  had  been  vain.  Bo 
nanza  was  staked  from  mouth  to  source, — 
"  out  of  sight  and  across  the  next  divide," 
Bill  complained  that  night  as  they  fried  their 
bacon  and  boiled  their  coffee  over  Carmack's 
fire  at  Discovery. 

"  Try  that  pup,"  Carmack  suggested  next 
morning. 

"  That  pup "  was  a  broad  creek  that 
flowed  into  Bonanza  at  7  Above.  The  part 
ners  received  his  advice  with  the  magnificent 
contempt  of  the  sour  dough  for  a  squaw-man, 
and,  instead,  spent  the  day  on  Adam's  Creek, 
another  and  more  likely-looking  tributary  of 
Bonanza.  But  it  was  the  old  story  over  again 
—  staked  to  the  sky-line. 

For  three  days  Carmack  repeated  his  advice, 


n8  TOO    MUCH    GOLD 

and  for  three  days  they  received  it  contemptu 
ously.  But  on  the  fourth  day,  there  being 
nowhere  else  to  go,  they  went  up  "  that  pup." 
They  knew  that  it  was  practically  unstaked, 
but  they  had  no  intention  of  staking.  The 
trip  was  made  more  for  the  purpose  of  giving 
vent  to  their  ill-humor  than  for  anything  else. 
They  had  become  quite  cynical,  sceptical. 
They  jeered  and  scoffed  at  everything,  and 
insulted  every  chechaquo  they  met  along  the 
way. 

At  No.  23  the  stakes  ceased.  The  remain 
der  of  the  creek  was  open  to  location. 

"  Moose  pasture  !  "  sneered  Kink  Mitchell. 

But  Bill  gravely  paced  off  five  hundred  feet 
up  the  creek  and  blazed  the  corner-stakes. 
He  had  picked  up  the  bottom  of  a  candle- 
box,  and  on  the  smooth  side  he  wrote  the 
notice  for  his  centre-stake :  — 

THIS  MOOSE  PASTURE  is  RESERVED   FOR  THE 
SWEDES  AND  CHECHAQUOS 

—  BILL  RADER. 

Kink  read  it  over  with  approval,  saying :  — 


TOO    MUCH    GOLD  119 

"  As  them's  my  sentiments,  I  reckon  I 
might  as  well  subscribe." 

So  the  name  of  Charles  Mitchell  was  added 
to  the  notice  ;  and  many  an  old  sour  dough's 
face  relaxed  that  day  at  sight  of  the  handi 
work  of  a  kindred  spirit. 

"  How's  the  pup  ?  "  Carmack  inquired  when 
they  strolled  back  into  camp. 

"  To  hell  with  pups  ! "  was  Hootchinoo 
Bill's  reply.  "  Me  and  Kink's  goin'  a-lookin' 
for  Too  Much  Gold  when  we  get  rested 
up." 

Too  Much  Gold  was  the  fabled  creek  of 
which  all  sour  doughs  dreamed,  whereof  it 
was  said  the  gold  was  so  thick  that,  in  order 
to  wash  it,  gravel  must  first  be  shovelled  into 
the  sluice-boxes.  But  the  several  days'  rest, 
preliminary  to  the  quest  for  Too  Much  Gold, 
brought  a  slight  change  in  their  plan,  inas 
much  as  it  brought  one  Ans  Handerson,  a 
Swede. 

Ans  Handerson  had  been  working  for  wages 
all  summer  at  Miller  Creek,  over  on  the  Sixty 
Mile,  and,  the  summer  done,  had  strayed  up 


120  TOO   MUCH    GOLD 

Bonanza  like  many  another  waif  helplessly 
adrift  on  the  gold  tides  that  swept  willy-nilly 
across  the  land.  He  was  tall  and  lanky.  His 
arms  were  long,  like  prehistoric  man's,  and 
his  hands  were  like  soup-plates,  twisted  and 
gnarled,  and  big-knuckled  from  toil.  He  was 
slow  of  utterance  and  movement,  and  his  eyes, 
pale  blue  as  his  hair  was  pale  yellow,  seemed 
filled  with  an  immortal  dreaming,  the  stuff  of 
which  no  man  knew,  and  himself  least  of  all. 
Perhaps  this  appearance  of  immortal  dreaming 
was  due  to  a  supreme  and  vacuous  innocence. 
At  any  rate,  this  was  the  valuation  men  of 
ordinary  clay  put  upon  him,  and  there  was 
nothing  extraordinary  about  the  composition 
of  Hootchinoo  Bill  and  Kink  Mitchell. 

The  partners  had  spent  a  day  of  visiting  and 
gossip,  and  in  the  evening  met  in  the  tempo 
rary  quarters  of  the  Monte  Carlo  —  a  large 
tent  where  stampeders  rested  their  weary  bones 
and  bad  whiskey  sold  at  a  dollar  a  drink. 
Since  the  only  money  in  circulation  was  dust, 
and  since  the  house  took  the  "  down-weight  " 
on  the  scales,  a  drink  cost  something  more 


TOO    MUCH    GOLD  121 

than  a  dollar.  Bill  and  Kink  were  not  drink 
ing,  principally  for  the  reason  that  their  one 
and  common  sack  was  not  strong  enough  to 
stand  many  excursions  to  the  scales. 

"Say,  Bill,  I've  got  a  chechaquo  on  the 
string  for  a  sack  of  flour,"  Mitchell  announced 
jubilantly. 

Bill  looked  interested  and  pleased.  Grub 
was  scarce,  and  they  were  not  overplentifully 
supplied  for  the  quest  after  Too  Much  Gold. 

"  Flour's  worth  a  dollar  a  pound,"  he 
answered.  "  How  like  do  you  calculate  to 
get  your  finger  on  it?" 

"Trade'm  a  half-interest  in  that  claim  of 
our'n,"  Kink  answered. 

"  What  claim  ?  "  Bill  was  surprised.  Then 
he  remembered  the  reservation  he  had  staked 
off  for  the  Swedes,  and  said,  "  Oh  !  " 

"  I  wouldn't  be  so  clost  about  it,  though," 
he  added.  "  Give'm  the  whole  thing  while 
you're  about  it,  in  a  right  free-handed  way." 

Bill  shook  his  head.  "  If  I  did,  he'd  get 
clean  scairt  and  prance  off.  I'm  lettin'  on  as 
how  the  ground  is  believed  to  be  valuable,  an1 


122  TOO    MUCH    GOLD 

that  we're  lettin'  go  half  just  because  we're 
monstrous  short  on  grub.  After  the  dicker 
we  can  make  him  a  present  of  the  whole 
shebang." 

"If  somebody  ain't  disregarded  our  notice," 
Bill  objected,  though  he  was  plainly  pleased  at 
the  prospect  of  exchanging  the  claim  for  a 
sack  of  flour. 

"  She  ain't  jumped,"  Kink  assured  him. 
"  It's  No.  24,  and  it  stands.  The  chechaquos 
took  it  serious,  and  they  begun  stakin'  where 
you  left  off.  Staked  clean  over  the  divide, 
too.  I  was  gassin'  with  one  of  them  which 
has  just  got  in  with  cramps  in  his  legs." 

It  was  then,  and  for  the  first  time,  that  they 
heard  the  slow  and  groping  utterance  of  Ans 
Handerson. 

"  Ay  like  the  looks,"  he  was  saying  to  the 
barkeeper.  "  Ay  tank  Ay  gat  a  claim." 

The  partners  winked  at  each  other,  and  a 
few  minutes  later  a  surprised  and  grateful 
Swede  was  drinking  bad  whiskey  with  two 
hard-hearted  strangers.  But  he  was  as  hard 
headed  as  they  were  hard  hearted.  The  sack 


TOO    MUCH    GOLD  123 

made  frequent  journeys  to  the  scales,  followed 
solicitously  each  time  by  Kink  Mitchell's 
eyes,  and  still  Ans  Handerson  did  not  loosen 
up.  In  his  pale  blue  eyes,  as  in  summer  seas, 
immortal  dreams  swam  up  and  burned,  but 
the  swimming  and  the  burning  were  due  to  the 
tales  of  gold  and  prospect  pans  he  heard, 
rather  than  to  the  whiskey  he  slid  so  easily 
down  his  throat. 

The  partners  were  in  despair,  though  they 
appeared  boisterous  and  jovial  of  speech  and 
action. 

"  Don't  mind  me,  my  friend,"  Hootchinoo 
Bill  hiccoughed,  his  hand  upon  Ans  Han- 
derson's  shoulder.  "  Have  another  drink. 
We're  just  celebratin'  Kink's  birthday  here. 
This  is  my  pardner  Kink,  Kink  Mitchell. 
An'  what  might  your  name  be?" 

This  learned,  his  hand  descended  resound 
ingly  on  Kink's  back,  and  Kink  simulated 
clumsy  self-consciousness  in  that  he  was  for 
the  time  being  the  centre  of  the  rejoicing, 
while  Ans  Handerson  looked  pleased  and 
asked  them  to  have  a  drink  with  him.  It  was 


i24  TOO    MUCH    GOLD 

the  first  and  last  time  he  treated,  until  the  play 
changed  and  his  canny  soul  was  roused  to 
unwonted  prodigality.  But  he  paid  for  the 
liquor  from  a  fairly  healthy-looking  sack. 
"  Not  less'n  eight  hundred  in  it,"  calculated 
the  lynx-eyed  Kink ;  and  on  the  strength  of 
it  he  took  the  first  opportunity  of  a  privy  con 
versation  with  Bidwell,  proprietor  of  the  bad 
whiskey  and  the  tent. 

"  Here's  my  sack,  Bidwell,"  Kink  said,  with 
the  intimacy  and  surety  of  one  old-timer  to 
another.  "Just  weigh  fifty  dollars  into  it  for 
a  day  or  so  more  or  less,  and  we'll  be  yours 
truly,  Bill  an'  me." 

Thereafter  the  journeys  of  the  sack  to  the 
scales  were  more  frequent,  and  the  celebration 
of  Kink's  natal  day  waxed  hilarious.  He  even 
essayed  to  sing  the  old-timer's  classic,  "  The 
Juice  of  the  Forbidden  Fruit,"  but  broke 
down  and  drowned  his  embarrassment  in 
another  round  of  drinks.  Even  Bidwell 
honored  him  with  a  round  or  two  on  the 
house ;  and  he  and  Bill  were  decently  drunk 
by  the  time  Ans  Handerson's  eyelids  began 


TOO    MUCH    GOLD  125 

to  droop  and  his  tongue  gave  promise  of 
loosening. 

Bill  grew  affectionate,  then  confidential.  He 
told  his  troubles  and  hard  luck  to  the  bar 
keeper  and  the  world  in  general,  and  to  Ans 
Handerson  in  particular.  He  required  no 
histrionic  powers  to  act  the  part.  The  bad 
whiskey  attended  to  that.  He  worked  him 
self  into  a  great  sorrow  for  himself  and  Bill, 
and  his  tears  were  sincere  when  he  told  how 
he  and  his  partner  were  thinking  of  selling  a 
half-interest  in  good  ground  just  because  they 
were  short  of  grub.  Even  Kink  listened  and 
believed. 

Ans  Handerson's  eyes  were  shining  unholily 
as  he  asked,  "  How  much  you  tank  you 
take  ? " 

Bill  and  Kink  did  not  hear  him,  and  he  was 
compelled  to  repeat  his  query.  They  ap 
peared  reluctant.  He  grew  keener.  And  he 
swayed  back  and  forward,  holding  on  to  the 
bar  and  listening  with  all  his  ears  while  they 
conferred  together  on  one  side,  and  wrangled 
as  to  whether  they  should  or  not,  and  disagreed 


126  TOO   MUCH    GOLD 

in  stage  whispers  over  the  price  they  should 
set. 

"  Two  hundred  and  —  hie  !  —  fifty,"  Bill 
finally  announced,  "  but  we  reckon  as  we  won't 
sell." 

"Which  is  monstrous  wise  if  I  might  chip 
in  my  little  say,"  seconded  Bidwell. 

"Yes,  indeedy,"  added  Kink.  "We  ain't 
in  no  charity  business  a-disgorgin'  free  an* 
generous  to  Swedes  an'  white  men." 

"Ay  tank  we  haf  another  drink,"  hiccoughed 
Ans  Handerson,  craftily  changing  the  subject 
against  a  more  propitious  time. 

And  thereafter,  to  bring  about  that  propi 
tious  time,  his  own  sack  began  to  see-saw  be 
tween  his  hip  pocket  and  the  scales.  Bill  and 
Kink  were  coy,  but  they  finally  yielded  to  his 
blandishments.  Whereupon  he  grew  shy  and 
drew  Bidwell  to  one  side.  He  staggered  ex 
ceedingly,  and  held  on  to  Bidwell  for  support 
as  he  asked  :  — 

"  They  ban  all  right,  them  men,  you  tank 
so  ?  " 

"  Sure,"  Bidwell  answered  heartily.    "  Known 


TOO   MUCH    GOLD  127 

'em  for  years.  Old  sour  doughs.  When  they 
sell  a  claim,  they  sell  a  claim.  They  ain't  no 
air-dealers." 

"Ay  tank  Ay  buy,"  Ans  Handerson  an 
nounced,  tottering  back  to  the  two  men. 

But  by  now  he  was  dreaming  deeply,  and  he 
proclaimed  he  would  have  the  whole  claim  or 
nothing.  This  was  the  cause  of  great  pain  to 
Hootchinoo  Bill.  He  orated  grandly  against 
the  "  hawgishness  "  of  chechaquos  and  Swedes, 
albeit  he  dozed  between  periods,  his  voice 
dying  away  to  a  gurgle,  and  his  head  sinking 
forward  on  his  breast.  But  whenever  roused 
by  a  nudge  from  Kink  or  Bidwell,  he  never 
failed  to  explode  another  volley  of  abuse  and 
insult. 

Ans  Handerson  was  calm  under  it  all. 
Each  insult  added  to  the  value  of  the  claim. 
Such  unamiable  reluctance  to  sell  advertised 
but  one  thing  to  him,  and  he  was  aware  of 
a  great  relief  when  Hootchinoo  Bill  sank 
snoring  to  the  floor,  and  he  was  free  to 
turn  his  attention  to  his  less  intractable 
partner. 


128  TOO   MUCH    GOLD 

Kink  Mitchell  was  persuadable,  though  a 
poor  mathematician.  He  wept  dolefully,  but 
was  willing  to  sell  a  half-interest  for  two  hun 
dred  and  fifty  dollars  or  the  whole  claim  for 
seven  hundred  and  fifty.  Ans  Handerson  and 
Bidwell  labored  to  clear  away  his  erroneous 
ideas  concerning  fractions,  but  their  labor  was 
vain.  He  spilled  tears  and  regrets  all  over 
the  bar  and  on  their  shoulders,  which  tears, 
however,  did  not  wash  away  his  opinion,  that 
if  one  half  was  worth  two  hundred  and  fifty, 
two  halves  were  worth  three  times  as  much. 

In  the  end,  —  and  even  Bidwell  retained  no 
more  than  hazy  recollections  of  how  the  night 
terminated,  —  a  bill  of  sale  was  drawn  up, 
wherein  Bill  Rader  and  Charles  Mitchell 
yielded  up  all  right  and  title  to  the  claim 
known  as  24  Eldorado,  the  same  being  the 
name  the  creek  had  received  from  some  opti 
mistic  chechaquo. 

When  Kink  had  signed,  it  took  the  united 
efforts  of  the  three  to  arouse  Bill.  Pen  in 
hand,  he  swayed  long  over  the  document; 
and,  each  time  he  rocked  back  and  forth,  in 


TOO   MUCH    GOLD  129 

Ans  Handerson's  eyes  flashed  and  faded  a  won 
drous  golden  vision.  When  the  precious  sig 
nature  was  at  last  appended  and  the  dust  paid 
over,  he  breathed  a  great  sigh,  and  sank  to 
sleep  under  a  table,  where  he  dreamed  immor 
tally  until  morning. 

But  the  day  was  chill  and  gray.  He  felt 
bad.  His  first  act,  unconscious  and  auto 
matic,  was  to  feel  for  his  sack.  Its  lightness 
startled  him.  Then,  slowly,  memories  of  the 
night  thronged  into  his  brain.  Rough  voices 
disturbed  him.  He  opened  his  eyes  and 
peered  out  from  under  the  table.  A  couple 
of  early  risers,  or,  rather,  men  who  had  been 
out  on  trail  all  night,  were  vociferating  their 
opinions  concerning  the  utter  and  loathsome 
worthlessness  of  Eldorado  Creek.  He  grew 
frightened,  felt  in  his  pocket,  and  found  the 
deed  to  24  Eldorado. 

Ten  minutes  later  Hootchinoo  Bill  and 
Kink  Mitchell  were  roused  from  their 
blankets  by  a  wild-eyed  Swede  that  strove 
to  force  upon  them  an  ink-scrawled  and  very 
blotty  piece  of  paper. 


130  TOO    MUCH    GOLD 

"Ay  tank  Ay  take  my  money  back,"  he 
gibbered.  "Ay  tank  Ay  take  my  money 
back." 

Tears  were  in  his  eyes  and  throat.  They 
ran  down  his  cheeks  as  he  knelt  before  them 
and  pleaded  and  implored.  But  Bill  and 
Kink  did  not  laugh.  They  might  have  been 
harder  hearted. 

"  First  time  I  ever  hear  a  man  squeal  over 
a  minin'  deal,"  Bill  said.  "An  I  make  free 
to  say  'tis  too  onusual  for  me  to  savvy." 

"  Same  here,"  Kink  Mitchell  remarked. 
"  Minin'  deals  is  like  horse-tradin'." 

They  were  honest  in  their  wonderment. 
They  could  not  conceive  of  themselves  raising 
a  wail  over  a  business  transaction,  so  they 
could  not  understand  it  in  another  man. 

"The  poor,  ornery  chechaquo"  murmured 
Hootchinoo  Bill,  as  they  watched  the  sorrow 
ing  Swede  disappear  up  the  trail. 

"But  this  ain't  Too  Much  Gold,"  Kink 
Mitchell  said  cheerfully. 

And  ere  the  day  was  out  they  purchased 
flour  and  bacon  at  exorbitant  prices  with  Ans 


TOO    MUCH    GOLD  131 

Handerson's  dust  and  crossed  over  the  divide 
in  the  direction  of  the  creeks  that  lie  between 
Klondike  and  Indian  River. 

Three  months  later  they  came  back  over 
the  divide  in  the  midst  of  a  snow  storm  and 
dropped  down  the  trail  to  24  Eldorado.  It 
merely  chanced  that  the  trail  led  them  that 
way.  They  were  not  looking  for  the  claim. 
Nor  could  they  see  much  through  the  driving 
white  till  they  set  foot  upon  the  claim  itself. 
And  then  the  air  lightened,  and  they  beheld 
a  dump,  capped  by  a  windlass  that  a  man 
was  turning.  They  saw  him  draw  a  bucket 
of  gravel  from  the  hole  and  tilt  it  on  the  edge 
of  the  dump.  Likewise  they  saw  another 
man,  strangely  familiar,  filling  a  pan  with  the 
fresh  gravel.  His  hands  were  large ;  his  hair 
was  pale  yellow.  But  before  they  reached 
him,  he  turned  with  the  pan  and  fled  toward 
a  cabin.  He  wore  no  hat,  and  the  snow 
falling  down  his  neck  accounted  for  his  haste. 
Bill  and  Kink  ran  after  him,  and  came  upon 
him  in  the  cabin,  kneeling  by  the  stove  and 
washing  the  pan  of  gravel  in  a  tub  of 


i32  TOO    MUCH   GOLD 

He  was  too  deeply  engaged  to  notice  more 
than  that  somebody  had  entered  the  cabin. 
They  stood  at  his  shoulder  and  looked  on. 
He  imparted  to  the  pan  a  deft  circular  motion, 
pausing  once  or  twice  to  rake  out  the  larger 
particles  of  gravel  with  his  fingers.  The  water 
was  muddy,  and,  with  the  pan  buried  in  it, 
they  could  see  nothing  of  its  contents.  Sud 
denly  he  lifted  the  pan  clear  and  sent  the 
water  out  of  it  with  a  flirt.  A  mass  of  yellow, 
like  butter  in  a  churn,  showed  across  the 
bottom. 

Hootchinoo  Bill  swallowed.  Never  in  his 
life  had  he  dreamed  of  so  rich  a  test-pan. 

"  Kind  of  thick,  my  friend/'  he  said  huskily. 
"  How  much  might  you  reckon  that-all  to 
be  ?  " 

Ans  Handerson  did  not  look  up  as  he 
replied,  "  Ay  tank  fafty  ounces." 

"  You  must  be  scrumptious  rich,  then, 
eh?" 

Still  Ans  Handerson  kept  his  head  down, 
absorbed  in  putting  in  the  fine  touches  which 
wash  out  the  last  particles  of  dross,  though 


TOO   MUCH    GOLD  133 

fie  answered,  "Ay  tank  Ay  ban  wort1  five 
hundred  thousand  dollar." 

"  Gosh ! "  said  Hootchinoo  Bill,  and  he 
said  it  reverently. 

"Yes,  Bill,  gosh!"  said  Kink  Mitchell; 
and  they  went  out  softly  and  closed  the 
door. 


THE    ONE  THOUSAND  DOZEN 


THE    ONE    THOUSAND    DOZEN 

DAVID  RASMUNSEN  was  a  hustler, 
and,  like  many  a  greater  man,  a  man 
of  the  one  idea.  Wherefore,  when 
the  clarion  call  of  the  North  rang  on  his  ear, 
he  conceived  an  adventure  in  eggs  and  bent 
all  his  energy  to  its  achievement.  He  figured 
briefly  and  to  the  point,  and  the  adventure 
became  iridescent-hued,  splendid.  That  eggs 
would  sell  at  Dawson  for  five  dollars  a  dozen 
was  a  safe  working  premise.  Whence  it  was 
incontrovertible  that  one  thousand  dozen 
would  bring,  in  the  Golden  Metropolis,  five 
thousand  dollars. 

On  the  other  hand,  expense  was  to  be  con 
sidered,  and  he  considered  it  well,  for  he  was  a 
careful  man,  keenly  practical,  with  a  hard  head 
and  a  heart  that  imagination  never  warmed. 
At  fifteen  cents  a  dozen,  the  initial  cost  of  his 

137 


138     THE   ONE   THOUSAND    DOZEN 

thousand  dozen  would  be  one  hundred  and 
fifty  dollars,  a  mere  bagatelle  in  face  of  the 
enormous  profit.  And  suppose,  just  suppose, 
to  be  wildly  extravagant  for  once,  that  trans 
portation  for  himself  and  eggs  should  run  up 
eight  hundred  and  fifty  more ;  he  would  still 
have  four  thousand  clear  cash  and  clean  when 
the  last  egg  was  disposed  of  and  the  last  dust 
had  rippled  into  his  sack. 

"  You  see,  Alma,"  —  he  figured  it  over  with 
his  wife,  the  cosy  dining  room  submerged  in  a 
sea  of  maps,  government  surveys,  guidebooks, 
and  Alaskan  itineraries,  —  "  you  see,  expenses 
don't  really  begin  till  you  make  Dyea  —  fifty 
dollars'll  cover  it  with  a  first-class  passage 
thrown  in.  Now  from  Dyea  to  Lake  Linder- 
man,  Indian  packers  take  your  goods  over  for 
twelve  cents  a  pound,  twelve  dollars  a  hundred, 
or  one  hundred  and  twenty  dollars  a  thousand. 
Say  I  have  fifteen  hundred  pounds,  it'll  cost 
one  hundred  and  eighty  dollars  —  call  it  two 
hundred  and  be  safe.  I  am  creditably  informed 
by  a  Klondiker  just  come  out  that  I  can  buy  a 
boat  for  three  hundred.  But  the  same  man 


THE   ONE   THOUSAND    DOZEN     139 

says  I'm  sure  to  get  a  couple  of  passengers  for 
one  hundred  and  fifty  each,  which  will  give  me 
the  boat  for  nothing,  and,  further,  they  can 
help  me  manage  it.  And  .  .  .  that's  all ;  I 
put  my  eggs  ashore  from  the  boat  at  Dawson. 
Now  let  me  see  how  much  is  that  ? " 

"  Fifty  dollars  from  San  Francisco  to  Dyea, 
two  hundred  from  Dyea  to  Linderman,  pas 
sengers  pay  for  the  boat  —  two  hundred  and 
fifty  all  told,"  she  summed  up  swiftly. 

"  And  a  hundred  for  my  clothes  and  personal 
outfit,"  he  went  on  happily ;  "  that  leaves  a 
margin  of  five  hundred  for  emergencies.  And 
what  possible  emergencies  can  arise  ?  " 

Alma  shrugged  her  shoulders  and  elevated 
her  brows.  If  that  vast  Northland  was  capa 
ble  of  swallowing  up  a  man  and  a  thousand 
dozen  eggs,  surely  there  was  room  and  to 
spare  for  whatever  else  he  might  happen  to 
possess.  So  she  thought,  but  she  said  noth 
ing.  She  knew  David  Rasmunsen  too  well  to 
say  anything. 

"  Doubling  the  time  because  of  chance  delays, 
I  should  make  the  trip  in  two  months.  Think 


1 40     THE    ONE   THOUSAND    DOZEN 

of  it,  Alma  !  Four  thousand  in  two  months  I 
Beats  the  paltry  hundred  a  month  I'm  getting 
now.  Why,  we'll  build  further  out  where 
we'll  have  more  space,  gas  in  every  room,  and 
a  view,  and  the  rent  of  the  cottage'll  pay  taxes,,, 
insurance,  and  water,  and  leave  something  over~ 
And  then  there's  always  the  chance  of  my 
striking  it  and  coming  out  a  millionnaire.  Now 
tell  me,  Alma,  don't  you  think  I'm  very 
moderate  ? " 

And  Alma  could  hardly  think  otherwise.. 
Besides,  had  not  her  own  cousin,  —  though  a 
remote  and  distant  one  to  be  sure,  the  black, 
sheep,  the  harum-scarum,  the  ne'er-do-well, — 
had  not  he  come  down  out  of  that  weird  North 
country  with  a  hundred  thousand  in  yellow 
dust,  to  say  nothing  of  a  half-ownership  in  the 
hole  from  which  it  came  ? 

David  Rasmunsen's  grocer  was  surprised 
when  he  found  him  weighing  eggs  in  the 
scales  at  the  end  of  the  counter,  and  Ras- 
munsen  himself  was  more  surprised  when  he 
found  that  a  dozen  eggs  weighed  a  pound  and 
a  half — fifteen  hundred  pounds  for  his  thou- 


THE    ONE    THOUSAND    DOZEN     141 

sand  dozen  !  There  would  be  no  weight  left 
for  his  clothes,  blankets,  and  cooking  utensils,, 
to  say  nothing  of  the  grub  he  must  necessarily 
consume  by  the  way.  His  calculations  were 
all  thrown  out,  and  he  was  just  proceeding  to 
recast  them  when  he  hit  upon  the  idea  of 
weighing  small  eggs.  "  For  whether  they  be 
large  or  small,  a  dozen  eggs  is  a  dozen  eggs," 
he  observed  sagely  to  himself;  and  a  dozen 
small  ones  he  found  to  weigh  but  a  pound 
and  a  quarter.  Thereat  the  city  of  San  Fran 
cisco  was  overrun  by  anxious-eyed  emissaries> 
and  commission  houses  and  dairy  associations 
were  startled  by  a  sudden  demand  for  eggs 
running  not  more  than  twenty  ounces  to  the 
dozen. 

Rasmunsen  mortgaged  the  little  cottage  for  a 
thousand  dollars,  arranged  for  his  wife  to  make 
a  prolonged  stay  among  her  own  people,  threw 
up  his  job,  and  started  North.  To  keep  within 
his  schedule  he  compromised  on  a  second-class 
passage,  which,  because  of  the  rush,  was  worse 
than  steerage ;  and  in  the  late  summer,  a  pale 
and  wabbly  man,  he  disembarked  with  his  eggs 


142     THE    ONE   THOUSAND    DOZEN 

on  the  Dyea  beach.  But  it  did  not  take  him 
long  to  recover  his  land  legs  and  appetite.  His 
first  interview  with  the  Chilkoot  packers 
straightened  him  up  and  stiffened  his  backbone. 
Forty  cents  a  pound  they  demanded  for  the 
twenty-eight-mile  portage,  and  while  he  caught 
his  breath  and  swallowed,  the  price  went  up  to 
forty-three.  Fifteen  husky  Indians  put  the 
straps  on  his  packs  at  forty-five,  but  took  them 
off  at  an  offer  of  forty-seven  from  a  Skaguay 
Croesus  in  dirty  shirt  and  ragged  overalls  who 
had  lost  his  horses  on  the  White  Pass  Trail 
:and  was  now  making  a  last  desperate  drive  at 
the  country  by  way  of  Chilkoot. 

But  Rasmunsen  was  clean  grit,  and  at  fifty 
cents  found  takers,  who,  two  days  later,  set  his 
eggs  down  intact  at  Linderman.  But  fifty 
cents  a  pound  is  a  thousand  dollars  a  ton,  and 
his  fifteen  hundred  pounds  had  exhausted  his 
emergency  fund  and  left  him  stranded  at  the 
Tantalus  point  where  each  day  he  saw  the 
fresh-whipsawed  boats  departing  for  Dawson. 
Further,  a  great  anxiety  brooded  over  the  camp 
where  the  boats  were  built.  Men  worked 


THE    ONE   THOUSAND    DOZEN     143 

frantically,  early  and  late,  at  the  height  of  their 
endurance,  calking,  nailing,  and  pitching  in  a 
frenzy  of  haste  for  which  adequate  'explanation 
was  not  far  to  seek.  Each  day  the  snow-line 
crept  farther  down  the  bleak,  rock-shouldered 
peaks,  and  gale  followed  gale,  with  sleet  and 
slush  and  snow,  and  in  the  eddies  and  quiet 
places  young  ice  formed  and  thickened  through 
the  fleeting  hours.  And  each  morn,  toil-stif 
fened  men  turned  wan  faces  across  the  lake  to 
see  if  the  freeze-up  had  come.  For  the  freeze- 
up  heralded  the  death  of  their  hope — the  hope 
that  they  would  be  floating  down  the  swift 
river  ere  navigation  closed  on  the  chain  of 
lakes. 

To  harrow  Rasmunsen's  soul  further,  he 
discovered  three  competitors  in  the  egg  busi 
ness.  It  was  true  that  one,  a  little  German, 
had  gone  broke  and  was  himself  forlornly 
back-tripping  the  last  pack  of  the  portage  ;  but 
the  other  two  had  boats  nearly  completed  and 
were  daily  supplicating  the  god  of  merchants 
and  traders  to  stay  the  iron  hand  of  winter  for 
just  another  day.  But  the  iron  hand  closed 


144     THE    ONE   THOUSAND    DOZEN 

down  over  the  land.  Men  were  being  frozen 
in  the  blizzard,  which  swept  Chilkoot,  and  Ras- 
anunsen  frosted  his  toes  ere  he  was  aware.  He 
found  a  chance  to  go  passenger  with  his  freight 
in  a  boat  just  shoving  off  through  the  rubble, 
but  two  hundred,  hard  cash,  was  required,  and 
he  had  no  money. 

"Ay  tank  you  yust  wait  one  leedle  w'ile," 
-said  the  Swedish  boat-builder,  who  had  struck 
his  Klondike  right  there  and  was  wise  enough 
to  know  it  — "  one  leedle  w'ile  und  I  make 
you  a  tarn  fine  skiff  boat,  sure  Pete." 

With  this  unpledged  word  to  go  on,  Ras- 
munsen  hit  the  back  trail  to  Crater  Lake, 
where  he  fell  in  with  two  press  correspondents 
-whose  tangled  baggage  was  strewn  from  Stone 
House,  over  across  the  Pass,  and  as  far  as 
Happy  Camp. 

"Yes/*  he  said  with  consequence.  "I've 
a  thousand  dozen  eggs  at  Linderman,  and  my 
boat's  just  about  got  the  last  seam  calked. 
-Consider  myself  in  luck  to  get  it.  Boats  are 
rat  a  premium,  you  know,  and  none  to  be 
had." 


THE   ONE   THOUSAND   DOZEN     145 

Whereupon  and  almost  with  bodily  violence 
the  correspondents  clamored  to  go  with  him, 
fluttered  greenbacks  before  his  eyes,  and 
spilled  yellow  twenties  from  hand  to  hand. 
He  could  not  hear  of  it,  but  they  overper- 
suaded  him,  and  he  reluctantly  consented  to 
take  them  at  three  hundred  apiece.  Also  they 
pressed  upon  him  the  passage  money  in  ad 
vance.  And  while  they  wrote  to  their  respec 
tive  journals  concerning  the  good  Samaritan 
with  the  thousand  dozen  eggs,  the  good 
Samaritan  was  hurrying  back  to  the  Swede 
at  Linderman. 

"  Here,  you  !  Gimme  that  boat !  "  was  his 
salutation,  his  hand  jingling  the  correspond 
ents'  gold  pieces  and  his  eyes  hungrily  bent 
upon  the  finished  craft. 

The  Swede  regarded  him  stolidly  and  shook 
his  head. 

"  How  much  is  the  other  fellow  paying  ? 
Three  hundred?  Well,  here's  four.  Take 


it." 


He    tried   to   press    it   upon    him,  but   the 
man  backed  away. 


146     THE   ONE   THOUSAND    DOZEN 

"Ay  tank  not.  Ay  say  him  get  der  skiff 
boat.  You  yust  wait  —  " 

"  Here's  six  hundred.  Last  call.  Take  it 
or  leave  it.  Tell'm  it's  a  mistake.'1 

The  Swede  wavered.  "  Ay  tank  yes/'  he 
finally  said,  and  the  last  Rasmunsen  saw  of 
him  his  vocabulary  was  going  to  wreck  in  a 
vain  effort  to  explain  the  mistake  to  the  other 
fellows. 

The  German  slipped  and  broke  his  ankle 
on  the  steep  hogback  above  Deep  Lake,  sold 
out  his  stock  for  a  dollar  a  dozen,  and  with 
the  proceeds  hired  Indian  packers  to  carry 
him  back  to  Dyea.  But  on  the  morning 
Rasmunsen  shoved  off  with  his  correspond 
ents,  his  two  rivals  followed  suit. 

"How  many  you  got?"  one  of  them,  a 
lean  little  New  Englander,  called  out. 

"One  thousand  dozen,"  Rasmunsen  an 
swered  proudly. 

"  Huh !  I'll  go  you  even  stakes  I  beat 
you  in  with  my  eight  hundred." 

The  correspondents  offered  to  lend  him 
the  money ;  but  Rasmunsen  declined,  and  the 


THE   ONE   THOUSAND    DOZEN     147 

Yankee  closed  with  the  remaining  rival,  a 
brawny  son  of  the  sea  and  sailor  of  ships 
and  things,  who  promised  to  show  them  all 
a  wrinkle  or  two  when  it  came  to  cracking 
on.  And  crack  on  he  did,  with  a  large  tar 
paulin  squaresail  which  pressed  the  bow  half 
under  at  every  jump.  He  was  the  first  to- 
run  out  of  Linderman,  but,  disdaining  the 
portage,  piled  his  loaded  boat  on  the  rocks 
in  the  boiling  rapids.  Rasmunsen  and  the 
Yankee,  who  likewise  had  two  passengers,, 
portaged  across  on  their  backs  and  then 
lined  their  empty  boats  down  through  the 
bad  water  to  Bennett. 

Bennett  was  a  twenty-five-mile  lake,  nar 
row  and  deep,  a  funnel  between  the  moun 
tains  through  which  storms  ever  romped. 
Rasmunsen  camped  on  the  sand-pit  at  its  head, 
where  were  many  men  and  boats  bound  north 
in  the  teeth  of  the  Arctic  winter.  He  awoke 
in  the  morning  to  find  a  piping  gale  from 
the  south,  which  caught  the  chill  from  the 
whited  peaks  and  glacial  valleys  and  blew  as 
cold  as  north  wind  ever  blew.  But  it  was 


148     THE    ONE   THOUSAND    DOZEN 

fair,  and  he  also  found  the  Yankee  staggering 
past  the  first  bold  headland  with  all  sail  set. 
Boat  after  boat  was  getting  under  way,  and 
the  correspondents  fell  to  with  enthusiasm. 

"We'll  catch  him  before  Cariboo  Cross 
ing,"  they  assured  Rasmunsen,  as  they  ran  up 
the  sail  and  the  Alma  took  the  first  icy  spray 
over  her  bow. 

Now  Rasmunsen  all  his  life  had  been  prone 
to  cowardice  on  water,  but  he  clung  to  the 
kicking  steering-oar  with  set  face  and  deter 
mined  jaw.  His  thousand  dozen  were  there 
in  the  boat  before  his  eyes,  safely  secured 
beneath  the  correspondents'  baggage,  and 
somehow,  before  his  eyes,  were  the  little 
cottage  and  the  mortgage  for  a  thousand 
dollars. 

It  was  bitter  cold.  Now  and  again  he 
hauled  in  the  steering-sweep  and  put  out 
a  fresh  one  while  his  passengers  chopped  the 
ice  from  the  blade.  Wherever  the  spray 
struck,  it  turned  instantly  to  frost,  and  the 
dipping  boom  of  the  spritsail  was  quickly 
fringed  with  icicles.  The  Alma  strained  and 


THE   ONE    THOUSAND    DOZEN     149 

hammered  through  the  big  seas  till  the  seams 
and  butts  began  to  spread,  but  in  lieu  of  bail 
ing  the  correspondents  chopped  ice  and  flung 
it  overboard.  There  was  no  let-up.  The 
mad  race  with  winter  was  on,  and  the  boats 
tore  along  in  a  desperate  string. 

<c  W-w-we  can't  stop  to  save  our  souls  !  " 
one  of  the  correspondents  chattered,  from  cold, 
not  fright. 

"  That's  right !  Keep  her  down  the  middle, 
old  man ! "  the  other  encouraged. 

Rasmunsen  replied  with  an  idiotic  grin. 
The  iron-bound  shores  were  in  a  lather  of 
foam,  and  even  down  the  middle  the  only 
hope  was  to  keep  running  away  from  the  big 
seas.  To  lower  sail  was  to  be  overtaken  and 
swamped.  Time  and  again  they  passed  boats 
pounding  among  the  rocks,  and  once  they  saw 
one  on  the  edge  of  the  breakers  about  to 
strike.  A  little  craft  behind  them,  with  two 
men,  jibed  over  and  turned  bottom  up. 

"  W-w-watch  out,  old  man !  "  cried  he  of 
the  chattering  teeth. 

Rasmunsen  grinned  and  tightened  his  aching 


I5o     THE    ONE   THOUSAND    DOZEN 

grip  on  the  sweep.  Scores  of  times  had  the 
send  of  the  sea  caught  the  big  square  stern  of 
the  Alma  and  thrown  her  oft"  from  dead  before 
it  till  the  after  leach  of  the  spritsail  fluttered 
hollowly,  and  each  time,  and  only  with  all  his 
strength,  had  he  forced  her  back.  His  grin 
by  then  had  become  fixed,  and  it  disturbed 
the  correspondents  to  look  at  him. 

They  roared  down  past  an  isolated  rock  a 
hundred  yards  from  shore.  From  its  wave- 
drenched  top  a  man  shrieked  wildly,  for  the 
instant  cutting  the  storm  with  his  voice.  But 
the  next  instant  the  Alma  was  by,  and  the  rock 
growing  a  black  speck  in  the  troubled  froth. 

"That  settles  the  Yankee!  Where's  the 
sailor  ?  "  shouted  one  of  his  passengers. 

Rasmunsen  shot  a  glance  over  his  shoulder 
at  a  black  squaresail.  He  had  seen  it  leap 
up  out  of  the  gray  to  windward,  and  for  an 
hour,  off  and  on,  had  been  watching  it  grow. 
The  sailor  had  evidently  repaired  damages  and 
was  making  up  for  lost  time. 

"  Look  at  him  come  !  " 

Both    passengers    stopped    chopping    ice    to 


THE    ONE    THOUSAND    DOZEN     151 

watch.  Twenty  miles  of  Bennett  were  behind 
them  —  room  and  to  spare  for  the  sea  to  toss 
up  its  mountains  toward  the  sky.  Sinking 
and  soaring  like  a  storm  god,  the  sailor  drove 
by  them.  The  huge  sail  seemed  to  grip  the 
boat  from  the  crests  of  the  waves,  to  tear  it 
bodily  out  of  the  water,  and  fling  it  crashing 
and  smothering  down  into  the  yawning  troughs. 
"  The  sea'll  never  catch  him  !  " 
"  But  he'll  r-r-run  her  nose  under !  " 
Even  as  they  spoke,  the  black  tarpaulin 
swooped  from  sight  behind  a  big  comber. 
The  next  wave  rolled  over  the  spot,  and  the 
next,  but  the  boat  did  not  reappear.  The 
Alma  rushed  by  the  place.  A  little  riffraff 
of  oars  and  boxes  was  seen.  An  arm  thrust 
up  and  a  shaggy  head  broke  surface  a  score  of 
yards  away. 

For  a  time  there  was  silence.  As  the  end 
of  the  lake  came  in  sight,  the  waves  began  to 
leap  aboard  with  such  steady  recurrence  that 
the  correspondents  no  longer  chopped  ice  but 
flung  the  water  out  with  buckets.  Even  this 
would  not  do,  and,  after  a  shouted  conference 


i52     THE   ONE   THOUSAND    DOZEN 

with  Rasmunsen,  they  attacked  the  baggage. 
Flour,  bacon,  beans,  blankets,  cooking  stove, 
ropes,  odds  and  ends,  everything  they  could 
get  hands  on,  flew  overboard.  The  boat 
acknowledged  it  at  once,  taking  less  water  and 
rising  more  buoyantly. 

"That'll  do!"  Rasmunsen  called  sternly, 
as  they  applied  themselves  to  the  top  layer 
of  eggs. 

"  The  h-hell  it  will !  "  answered  the  shiver 
ing  one,  savagely.  With  the  exception  of  their 
notes,  films,  and  cameras,  they  had  sacrificed 
their  outfit.  He  bent  over,  laid  hold  of  an 
egg-box,  and  began  to  worry  it  out  from  under 
the  lashing. 

"  Drop  it !     Drop  it,  I  say  !  " 

Rasmunsen  had  managed  to  draw  his  re 
volver,  and  with  the  crook  of  his  arm  over  the 
sweep  head  was  taking  aim.  The  correspond 
ent  stood  up  on  the  thwart,  balancing  back 
and  forth,  his  face  twisted  with  menace  and 
speechless  anger. 

"  My  God  ! " 

So  cried  his  brother  correspondent,  hurling 


THE    ONE   THOUSAND    DOZEN     153 

himself,  face  downward,  into  the  bottom  of 
the  boat.  The  Alma,  under  the  divided  atten 
tion  of  Rasmunsen,  had  been  caught  by  a  great 
mass  of  water  and  whirled  around.  The  after 
leach  hollowed,  the  sail  emptied  and  jibed,  and 
the  boom,  sweeping  with  terrific  force  across 
the  boat,  carried  the  angry  correspondent 
overboard  with  a  broken  back.  Mast  and 
sail  had  gone  over  the  side  as  well.  A 
drenching  sea  followed,  as  the  boat  lost 
headway,  and  Rasmunsen  sprang  to  the 
bailing  bucket. 

Several  boats  hurtled  past  them  in  the  next 
half-hour,  —  small  boats,  boats  of  their  own 
size,  boats  afraid,  unable  to  do  aught  but  run 
madly  on.  Then  a  ten-ton  barge,  at  imminent 
risk  of  destruction,  lowered  sail  to  windward 
and  lumbered  down  upon  them. 

"Keep  off!  Keep  off!"  Rasmunsen 
screamed. 

But  his  low  gunwale  ground  against  the 
heavy  craft,  and  the  remaining  correspondent 
clambered  aboard.  Rasmunsen  was  over  the 
eggs  like  a  cat  and  in  the  bow  of  the  Almay 


I54     THE    ONE    THOUSAND    DOZEN 

striving  with  numb  fingers  to  bend  the  hauling- 
lines  together. 

"  Come  on  !  "  a  red-whiskered  man  yelled 
at  him. 

"I've  a  thousand  dozen  eggs  here,"  he 
shouted  back.  "Gimme  a  tow!  I'll  pay 
you  !  " 

"  Come  on  !  "  they  howled  in  chorus. 

A  big  whitecap  broke  just  beyond,  washing 
over  the  barge  and  leaving  the  Alma  half 
swamped.  The  men  cast  off,  cursing  him  as 
they  ran  up  their  sail.  Rasmunsen  cursed 
back  and  fell  to  bailing.  The  mast  and  sail, 
like  a  sea  anchor,  still  fast  by  the  halyards,  held 
the  boat  head  on  to  wind  and  sea  and  gave  him 
a  chance  to  fight  the  water  out. 

Three  hours  later,  numbed,  exhausted, 
blathering  like  a  lunatic,  but  still  bailing,  he 
went  ashore  on  an  ice-strewn  beach  near  Car 
iboo  Crossing.  Two  men,  a  government 
courier  and  a  half-breed  voyageur,  dragged 
him  out  of  the  surf,  saved  his  cargo,  and 
beached  the  Alma.  They  were  paddling  out 
of  the  country  in  a  Peterborough,  and  gave 


THE    ONE   THOUSAND    DOZEN     155 

him  shelter  for  the  night  in  their  storm-bound 
camp.  Next  morning  they  departed,  but  he 
elected  to  stay  by  his  eggs.  And  thereafter 
the  name  and  fame  of  the  man  with  the  thou 
sand  dozen  eggs  began  to  spread  through  the 
land.  Gold-seekers  who  made  in  before  the 
freeze-up  carried  the  news  of  his  coming. 
Grizzled  old-timers  of  Forty  Mile  and  Circle 
City,  sour  doughs  with  leathern  jaws  and  bean- 
calloused  stomachs,  called  up  dream  memories 
of  chickens  and  green  things  at  mention  of 
his  name.  Dyea  and  Skaguay  took  an  interest 
in  his  being,  and  questioned  his  progress  from 
every  man  who  came  over  the  passes,  while 
Dawson — golden,  omeletless  Dawson  —  fretted 
and  worried,  and  waylaid  every  chance  arrival 
for  word  of  him. 

But  of  this,  Rasmunsen  knew  nothing.  The 
day  after  the  wreck  he  patched  up  the  Alma 
and  pulled  out.  A  cruel  east  wind  blew  in  his 
teeth  from  Tagish,  but  he  got  the  oars  over 
the  side  and  bucked  manfully  into  it,  though 
half  the  time  he  was  drifting  backward  and 
chopping  ice  from  the  blades.  According  to 


156     THE    ONE    THOUSAND    DOZEN 

the  custom  of  the  country,  he  was  driven 
ashore  at  Windy  Arm  ;  three  times  on  Tagish 
saw  him  swamped  and  beached ;  and  Lake 
Marsh  held  him  at  the  freeze-up.  The  Alma 
was  crushed  in  the  jamming  of  the  floes,  but 
the  eggs  were  intact.  These  he  back-tripped 
two  miles  across  the  ice  to  the  shore,  where  he 
built  a  cache,  which  stood  for  years  after  and 
was  pointed  out  by  men  who  knew. 

Haifa  thousand  frozen  miles  stretched  between 
him  and  Dawson,  and  the  waterway  was  closed. 
But  Rasmunsen,  with  a  peculiar  tense  look 
in  his  face,  struck  back  up  the  lakes  on  foot. 
What  he  suffered  on  that  lone  trip,  with  naught 
but  a  single  blanket,  an  axe,  and  a  handful  of 
beans,  is  not  given  to  ordinary  mortals  to 
know.  Only  the  Arctic  adventurer  may  under 
stand.  Suffice  that  he  was  caught  in  a  blizzard 
on  Chilkoot  and  left  two  of  his  toes  with  the 
surgeon  at  Sheep  Camp.  Yet  he  stood  on  his 
feet  and  washed  dishes  in  the  scullery  of  the 
Pawona  to  the  Puget  Sound,  and  from  there 
passed  coal  on  a  P.  S.  boat  to  San  Francisco. 

It  was  a  haggard,  unkempt  man  who  limped 


THE    ONE   THOUSAND    DOZEN 

across  the  shining  office  floor  to  raise  a  second 
mortgage  from  the  bank  people.  His  hollow 
cheeks  betrayed  themselves  through  the. 
scraggly  beard,  and  his  eyes  seemed  to  have 
retired  into  deep  caverns  where  they  burned 
with  cold  fires.  His  hands  were  grained  from 
exposure  and  hard  work,  and  the  nails  were 
rimmed  with  tight-packed  dirt  and  coal  dust, 
He  spoke  vaguely  of  eggs  and  ice-packs,  winds 
and  tides ;  but  when  they  declined  to  let  him 
have  more  than  a  second  thousand,  his  talk 
became  incoherent,  concerning  itself  chiefly 
with  the  price  of  dogs  and  dog-food,  and  such 
things  as  snowshoes  and  moccasins  and  winter, 
trails.  They  let  him  have  fifteen  hundred, 
which  was  more  than  the  cottage  warranted, 
and  breathed  easier  when  he  scrawled  his  signar 
ture  and  passed  out  the  door. 

Two  weeks  later  he  went  over  Chilkoot  with 
three  dog  sleds  of  five  dogs  each.  One  team 
he  drove,  the  two  Indians  with  him  driving 
the  others.  At  Lake  Marsh  they  broke  out, 
the  cache  and  loaded  up.  But  there  was  no 
trail.  He  was  the  first  in  over  the  ice,  and  to 


158     THE   ONE   THOUSAND    DOZEN 

him  fell  the  task  of  packing  the  snow  and 
hammering  away  through  the  rough  river  jams. 
Behind  him  he  often  observed  a  camp-fire 
smoke  trickling  thinly  up  through  the  quiet 
air,  and  he  wondered  why  the  people  did  not 
overtake  him.  For  he  was  a  stranger  to  the 
land  and  did  not  understand.  Nor  could  he 
understand  his  Indians  when  they  tried  to 
explain.  This  they  conceived  to  be  a  hardship, 
but  when  they  balked  and  refused  to  break 
camp  of  mornings,  he  drove  them  to  their 
work  at  pistol  point. 

When  he  slipped  through  an  ice  bridge  near 
the  White  Horse  and  froze  his  foot,  tender 
yet  and  oversensitive  from  the  previous  freez 
ing,  the  Indians  looked  for  him  to  lie  up. 
But  he  sacrificed  a  blanket,  and,  with  his  foot 
incased  in  an  enormous  moccasin,  big  as  a 
water-bucket,  continued  to  take  his  regular 
turn  with  the  front  sled.  Here  was  the  cruel- 
est  work,  and  they  respected  him,  though  on 
the  side  they  rapped  their  foreheads  with  their 
knuckles  and  significantly  shook  their  heads. 
One  night  they  tried  to  run  away,  but  the  zip- 


THE    ONE   THOUSAND    DOZEN     159 

zip  of  his  bullets  in  the  snow  brought  them 
back,  snarling  but  convinced.  Whereupon, 
being  only  savage  Chilkat  men,  they  put  their 
heads  together  to  kill  him  ;  but  he  slept  like 
a  cat,  and,  waking  or  sleeping,  the  chance  never 
came.  Often  they  tried  to  tell  him  the  im 
port  of  the  smoke  wreath  in  the  rear,  but  he 
could  not  comprehend  and  grew  suspicious  of 
them.  And  when  they  sulked  or  shirked,  he 
was  quick  to  let  drive  at  them  between  the 
eyes,  and  quick  to  cool  their  heated  souls  with 
sight  of  his  ready  revolver. 

And  so  it  went  —  with  mutinous  men,  wild 
dogs,  and  a  trail  that  broke  the  heart.  He 
fought  the  men  to  stay  with  him,  fought  the 
dogs  to  keep  them  away  from  the  eggs,  fought 
the  ice,  the  cold,  and  the  pain  of  his  foot,  which 
would  not  heal.  As  fast  as  the  young  tissue 
renewed,  it  was  bitten  and  seared  by  the  frost, 
so  that  a  running  sore  developed,  into  which 
he  could  almost  shove  his  fist.  In  the  morn 
ings,  when  he  first  put  his  weight  upon  it,  his 
head  went  dizzy,  and  he  was  near  to  fainting 
from  the  pain ;  but  later  on  in  the  day  it 


160     THE   ONE   THOUSAND   DOZEN 

usually  grew  numb,  to  recommence  when  he 
crawled  into  his  blankets  and  tried  to  sleep. 
Yet  he,  who  had  been  a  clerk  and  sat  at  a  desk 
all  his  days,  toiled  till  the  Indians  were  ex 
hausted,  and  even  outworked  the  dogs.  How 
hard  he  worked,  how  much  he  suffered,  he  did 
not  know.  Being  a  man  of  the  one  idea,  now 
that  the  idea  had  come,  it  mastered  him.  In 
the  foreground  of  his  consciousness  was  Daw- 
son,  in  the  background  his  thousand  dozen 
eggs,  and  midway  between  the  two  his  ego 
fluttered,  striving  alway  to  draw  them  together 
to  a  glittering  golden  point.  This  golden 
point  was  the  five  thousand  dollars,  the  con 
summation  of  the  idea  and  the  point  of  depar 
ture  for  whatever  new  idea  might  present 
itself.  For  the  rest,  he  was  a  mere  automaton. 
He  was  unaware  of  other  things,  seeing  them 
as  through  a  glass  darkly,  and  giving  them  no 
thought.  The  work  of  his  hands  he  did  with 
machine-like  wisdom ;  likewise  the  work  of  his 
head.  So  the  look  on  his  face  grew  very  tense, 
till  even  the  Indians  were  afraid  of  it,  and 
marvelled  at  the  strange  white  man  who  had 


THE   ONE   THOUSAND    DOZEN     161 

made  them  slaves  and  forced  them  to  toil  with 
such  foolishness. 

Then  came  a  snap  on  Lake  Le  Barge,  when 
the  cold  of  outer  space  smote  the  tip  of  the 
planet,  and  the  frost  ranged  sixty  and  odd 
degrees  below  zero.  Here,  laboring  with 
open  mouth  that  he  might  breathe  more 
freely,  he  chilled  his  lungs,  and  for  the  rest 
of  the  trip  he  was  troubled  with  a  dry,  hack 
ing  cough,  especially  irritable  in  smoke  of 
camp  or  under  stress  of  undue  exertion.  On 
the  Thirty  Mile  river  he  found  much  open 
water,  spanned  by  precarious  ice  bridges  and 
fringed  with  narrow  rim  ice,  tricky  and  uncer 
tain.  The  rim  ice  was  impossible  to  reckon 
on,  and  he  dared  it  without  reckoning,  falling 
back  on  his  revolver  when  his  drivers  de 
murred.  But  on  the  ice  bridges,  covered 
with  snow  though  they  were,  precautions 
could  be  taken.  These  they  crossed  on  their 
snowshoes,  with  long  poles,  held  crosswise  in 
their  hands,  to  which  to  cling  in  case  of  acci 
dent.  Once  over,  the  dogs  were  called  to, 
follow.  And  on  such  a  bridge,  where  the 


162     THE   ONE   THOUSAND    DOZEN 

absence  of  the  centre  ice  was  masked  by  the 
snow,  one  of  the  Indians  met  his  end.  He 
went  through  as  quickly  and  neatly  as  a  knife 
through  thin  cream,  and  the  current  swept 
him  from  view  down  under  the  stream  ice. 

That  night  his  mate  fled  away  through  the 
pale  moonlight,  Rasmunsen  futilely  puncturing 
the  silence  with  his  revolver  —  a  thing  that  he 
handled  with  more  celerity  than  cleverness. 
Thirty-six  hours  later  the  Indian  made  a 
police  camp  on  the  Big  Salmon. 

"  Um  —  um  —  um  funny  mans  —  what  you 
call  ?  —  top  um  head  all  loose,"  the  inter 
preter  explained  to  the  puzzled  captain.  cc  Eh  ? 
Yep,  clazy,  much  clazy  mans.  Eggs,  eggs, 
all  a  time  eggs  —  savvy?  Come  bime-by." 

It  was  several  days  before  Rasmunsen  ar 
rived,  the  three  sleds  lashed  together,  and  all 
the  dogs  in  a  single  team.  It  was  awkward, 
and  where  the  going  was  bad  he  was  com 
pelled  to  back-trip  it  sled  by  sled,  though 
he  managed  most  of  the  time,  through  her 
culean  efforts,  to  bring  all  along  on  the  one 
haul.  He  did  not  seem  moved  when  the 


THE    ONE   THOUSAND    DOZEN     163 

captain  of  police  told  him  his  man  was  hit 
ting  the  high  places  for  Dawson,  and  was  by 
that  time,  probably,  halfway  between  Selkirk 
and  Stewart.  Nor  -did  he  appear  interested 
when  informed  that  the  police  had  broken 
the  trail  as  far  as  Pelly ;  for  he  had  attained 
to  a  fatalistic  acceptance  of  all  natural  dis 
pensations,  good  or  ill.  But  when  they  told 
him  that  Dawson  was  in  the  bitter  clutch  of 
famine,  he  smiled,  threw  the  harness  on  his 
dogs,  and  pulled  out. 

But  it  was  at  his  next  halt  that  the  mys 
tery  of  the  smoke  was  explained.  With  the 
word  at  Big  Salmon  that  the  trail  was  broken 
to  Pelly,  there  was  no  longer  any  need  for 
the  smoke  wreath  to  linger  in  his  wake ;  and 
Rasmunsen,  crouching  over  his  lonely  fire, 
saw  a  motley  string  of  sleds  go  by.  First 
came  the  courier  and  the  half-breed  who  had 
hauled  him  out  from  Bennett;  then  mail-carriers 
for  Circle  City,  two  sleds  of  them,  and  a  mixed 
following  of  ingoing  Klondikers.  Dogs  and 
men  were  fresh  and  fat,  while  Rasmunsen 
and  his  brutes  were  jaded  and  worn  down 


164     THK    ONK    THOUSAND    DO'/. 

to    the    '.kin    and     bonr.      They    of    the    smoke 
wreath   i  lay   in    tin/-- 

and   reserving   their  strength    for  the   dash  to 
come  when  broken   frail  was  met  with;  while 
'each  day  fie   had   plunged   and    floundered   for 
ward,    breaking    the    -.pit if    of    his   dogi    and 
robbing    them    of   fhrir    mrffie. 

At  for  himself,  he  was  unbreakable.  Th'-y 
thanked  him  kindly  for  hii  efforts  in  fh'-ir 
behalf,  those  fat,  fresh  men,  —  thanked  him 
kindly,  with  broad  grins  and  ribald  I.-: 
ter;  and  now,  when  he  understood,  he  rn,id< 
too  answer*  Nor  did  he  cherish  silent  bittcr- 
toess.  It  was  immaterial.  The  idea  —  the 
fact  behind  the  idea --was  not  changed. 
Here  he  was  and  his  thousand  do/.-n;  there 
Was  Dawson;  the  problem  was  unalf'-i <-d. 

At  the  Little  Salmon,  b<  -.\    •;  .  > 

food,  the  dogs  got  into  his  grub,  and  fiom 
'there  to  Selkirk  he  lived  on  beans  —  coarse, 
brown  beans,  big  beans,  grossly  nunm/*, 
vyhi'h  griped  his  stomach  and  doubled  him 
Hip  at  two-hour  intervals.  But  the  Factor  at 
viknk  had  a  notice  on  the  door  of  the  Post 


1HK    ONK     THOUSAND    DOZEN     165 

to  the  effect  that  no  steamer  had  been  up 
the  Yukon  for  two  vc.irs,  aiul  in  consequence 
grub  was  beyoiul  price.  He  offered  to  swap 
Hour,  however,  .it  the  rate  of"  a  cupful  for  each 
egg,  but  K.ismunsen  shook  his  head  and  hit 
the  trail.  Below  the  Post  he  managed  to  buy 
frozen  horse  hide  for  the  dogs,  the  horses 
having  been  sl.iin  by  the  Chilkat  cattle  men, 
and  the  scraps  and  oflfkl  preserved  by  the 
Indians.  He  tackled  the  hide  himself,  but 
the  hair  worked  into  the  bean  sores  of  his 
mouth,  and  was  beyond  endurance. 

Here  at  Selkirk,  he  met  the  forerunners  of 
the  hungry  exodus  of  Dawson,  and  from  there 
on  they  crept  over  the  trail,  a  dismal  throng. 
"  No  grub  ! **  was  the  song  they  sang.  "  No 
grub,  and  had  to  go.**  c<  Everybody  holding 
candles  to;  ;e  in  the  spring.**  "  Flour 

doll.u'n  a  half  a  pound,  and  no  sellers.** 

"  Eggs  ?  **  one  of  them  answered.  "  Dollar 
apiece,  but  they  ain*t  none.** 

Rasnumscn  made  a  rapid  calculation. 
"  Twelve  thousand  dollars,**  he  said  aloud, 

"  Hey  ?  "  the  man  asked. 


166     THE    ONE   THOUSAND    DOZEN 

cc  Nothing,"  he  answered,  and  mushed  the 
dogs  along. 

When  he  arrived  at  Stewart  River,  seventy 
miles  from  Dawson,  five  of  his  dogs  were 
gone,  and  the  remainder  were  falling  in  the 
traces.  He,  also,  was  in  the  traces,  hauling 
with  what  little  strength  was  left  in  him. 
Even  then  he  was  barely  crawling  along  ten 
miles  a  day.  His  cheek-bones  and  nose,  frost 
bitten  again  and  again,  were  turned  bloody- 
black  and  hideous.  The  thumb,  which  was 
separated  from  the  fingers  by  the  gee-pole, 
had  likewise  been  nipped  and  gave  him  great 
pain.  The  monstrous  moccasin  still  incased 
his  foot,  and  strange  pains  were  beginning  to 
rack  the  leg.  At  Sixty  Mile,  the  last  beans, 
which  he  had  been  rationing  for  some  time,  were 
finished;  yet  he  steadfastly  refused  to  touch 
the  eggs.  He  could  not  reconcile  his  mind 
to  the  legitimacy  of  it,  and  staggered  and  fell 
along  the  way  to  Indian  River.  Here  a  fresh- 
killed  moose  and  an  open-handed  old-timer 
gave  him  and  his  dogs  new  strength,  and  at 
Ainslie's  he  felt  repaid  for  it  all  when  a  stam- 


THE    ONE   THOUSAND    DOZEN     167 

pede,  ripe  from  Dawson  in  five  hours,  was 
sure  he  could  get  a  dollar  and  a  quarter  for 
every  egg  he  possessed. 

He  came  up  the  steep  bank  by  the  Daw- 
son  barracks  with  fluttering  heart  and  shaking 
knees.  The  dogs  were  so  weak  that  he  was 
forced  to  rest  them,  and,  waiting,  he  leaned 
limply  against  the  gee-pole.  A  man,  an 
eminently  decorous-looking  man,  came  saun 
tering  by  in  a  great  bearskin  coat.  He 
glanced  at  Rasmunsen  curiously,  then  stopped 
and  ran  a  speculative  eye  over  the  dogs  and 
the  three  lashed  sleds. 

"  What  you  got?  "  he  asked. 

"  Eggs,"  Rasmunsen  answered  huskily, 
hardly  able  to  pitch  his  voice  above  a 
whisper. 

"Eggs!  Whoopee!  Whoopee!"  He 
sprang  up  into  the  air,  gyrated  madly,  and 
finished  with  half  a  dozen  war  steps.  "  You 
don't  say  —  all  of  'em  ?  " 

"All  of 'em?" 

"  Say,  you  must  be  the  Egg  Man."  He 
walked  around  and  viewed  Rasmunsen  from 


168     THE   ONE   THOUSAND   DOZEN 

the  other  side.  "  Come,  now,  ain't  you  the 
Egg  Man  ? " 

Rasmunsen  didn't  know,  but  supposed  he 
was,  and  the  man  sobered  down  a  bit. 

"  What  d'ye  expect  to  get  for  'em  ? "  he 
asked  cautiously. 

Rasmunsen  became  audacious.  "  Dollar'n  a 
half,"  he  said. 

"  Done ! "  the  man  came  back  promptly. 
"  Gimme  a  dozen." 

"I  —  I  mean  a  dollar'n  a  half  apiece," 
Rasmunsen  hesitatingly  explained. 

"  Sure.  I  heard  you.  Make  it  two  dozen. 
Here's  the  dust." 

The  man  pulled  out  a  healthy  gold  sack  the 
size  of  a  small  sausage  and  knocked  it  negli 
gently  against  the  gee-pole.  Rasmunsen  felt 
a  strange  trembling  in  the  pit  of  his  stomach, 
a  tickling  of  the  nostrils,  and  an  almost  over 
whelming  desire  to  sit  down  and  cry.  But  a 
curious,  wide-eyed  crowd  was  beginning  to 
collect,  and  man  after  man  was  calling  out  for 
eggs.  He  was  without  scales,  but  the  man 
with  the  bearskin  coat  fetched  a  pair  and 


THE   ONE   THOUSAND    DOZEN     169 

obligingly  weighed  in  the  dust  while  Rasmun- 
sen  passed  out  the  goods.  Soon  there  was  a 
pushing  and  shoving  and  shouldering,  and  a 
great  clamor.  Everybody  wanted  to  buy  and 
to  be  served  first.  And  as  the  excitement 
grew,  Rasmunsen  cooled  down.  This  would 
never  do.  There  must  be  something  behind 
the  fact  of  their  buying  so  eagerly.  It  would 
be  wiser  if  he  rested  first  and  sized  up  the 
market.  Perhaps  eggs  were  worth  two  dollars 
apiece.  Anyway,  whenever  he  wished  to  sell, 
he  was  sure  of  a  dollar  and  a  half.  "  Stop  !  " 
he  cried,  when  a  couple  of  hundred  had  been 
sold.  "  No  more  now.  I'm  played  out.  I've 
got  to  get  a  cabin,  and  then  you  can  come 
and  see  me." 

A  groan  went  up  at  this,  but  the  man 
with  the  bearskin  coat  approved.  Twenty- 
four  of  the  frozen  eggs  went  rattling  in  his 
capacious  pockets  and  he  didn't  care  whether 
the  rest  of  the  town  ate  or  not.  Besides,  he 
could  see  Rasmunsen  was  on  his  last  legs. 

"  There's  a  cabin  right  around  the  second 
corner  from  the  Monte  Carlo,"  he  told  him  — 


170     THE    ONE    THOUSAND    DOZEN 

"  the  one  with  the  sody-bottle  window.  It 
ain't  mine,  but  I've  got  charge  of  it.  Rents 
for  ten  a  day  and  cheap  for  the  money.  You 
move  right  in,  and  I'll  see  you  later.  Don't 
forget  the  sody-bottle  window." 

"  Tra-la-loo !  "  he  called  back  a  moment 
later.  "  I'm  goin'  up  the  hill  to  eat  eggs  and 
dream  of  home." 

On  his  way  to  the  cabin,  Rasmunsen 
recollected  he  was  hungry  and  bought  a  small 
supply  of  provisions  at  the  N.  A.  T.  &  T. 
store  —  also  a  beefsteak  at  the  butcher  shop 
and  dried  salmon  for  the  dogs.  He  found 
the  cabin  without  difficulty  and  left  the  dogs 
in  the  harness  while  he  started  the  fire  and 
got  the  coffee  under  way. 

"  A  dollar'n  a  half  apiece  —  one  thousand 
dozen  —  eighteen  thousand  dollars!"  He 
kept  muttering  it  to  himself,  over  and  over, 
as  he  went  about  his  work. 

As  he  flopped  the  steak  into  the  frying- 
pan  the  door  opened.  He  turned.  It  was 
the  man  with  the  bearskin  coat.  He  seemed 
to  come  in  with  determination,  as  though 


THE    ONE    THOUSAND    DOZEN     171 

bound  on  some  explicit  errand,  but  as  he 
looked  at  Rasmunsen  an  expression  of  per 
plexity  came  into  his  face. 

"  I  say  —  now  I  say  —  "  he  began,  then 
halted. 

Rasmunsen  wondered  if  he  wanted  the 
rent. 

"  I  say,  damn  it,  you  know,  them  eggs  is 
bad." 

Rasmunsen  staggered.  He  felt  as  though 
some  one  had  struck  him  an  astounding  blow 
between  the  eyes.  The  walls  of  the  cabin 
reeled  and  tilted  up.  He  put  out  his  hand 
to  steady  himself  and  rested  it  on  the  stove. 
The  sharp  pain  and  the  smell  of  the  burning 
flesh  brought  him  back  to  himself. 

"  I  see,"  he  said  slowly,  fumbling  in  his 
pocket  for  the  sack.  "  You  want  your  money 
back." 

"It  ain't  the  money,"  the  man  said,  "  but 
hain't  you  got  any  eggs  —  good  ?  " 

Rasmunsen  shook  his  head.  "  You'd  better 
take  the  money." 

But    the    man    refused    and     backed    away. 


172     THE   ONE   THOUSAND    DOZEN 

"  I'll  come  back,"  he  said,  "  when  you've 
taken  stock,  and  get  what's  comin'." 

Rasmunsen  rolled  the  chopping-block  into 
the  cabin  and  carried  in  the  eggs.  He  went 
about  it  quite  calmly.  He  took  up  the  hand- 
axe,  and,  one  by  one,  chopped  the  eggs  in  half. 
These  halves  he  examined  carefully  and  let  fall 
to  the  floor.  At  first  he  sampled  from  the 
different  cases,  then  deliberately  emptied  one 
case  at  a  time.  The  heap  on  the  floor  grew 
larger.  The  coffee  boiled  over  and  the  smoke 
of  the  burning  beefsteak  filled  the  cabin.  He 
chopped  steadfastly  and  monotonously  till  the 
last  case  was  finished. 

Somebody  knocked  at  the  door,  knocked 
again,  and  let  himself  in. 

"  What  a  mess  !  "  he  remarked,  as  he  paused 
and  surveyed  the  scene. 

The  severed  eggs  were  beginning  to  thaw 
in  the  heat  of  the  stove,  and  a  miserable  odor 
was  growing  stronger. 

"  Must  a-happened  on  the  steamer,"  he 
suggested. 

Rasmunsen  looked  at  him  long  and  blankly. 


THE    ONE   THOUSAND    DOZEN     173 

"  I'm  Murray,  Big  Jim  Murray,  everybody 
knows  me/*  the  man  volunteered.  "  I'm  just 
hearin'  your  eggs  is  rotten,  and  I'm  offerin* 
you  two  hundred  for  the  batch.  They  ain't 
good  as  salmon,  but  still  they're  fair  scoffin's 
for  dogs." 

Rasmunsen  seemed  turned  to  stone.  He 
did  not  move.  "You  go  to  hell,"  he  said 
passionlessly. 

"Now just  consider.  I  pride  myself  it's  a 
decent  price  for  a  mess  like  that,  and  it's  bet- 
ter'n  nothin'.  Two  hundred.  What  you 
say  ? " 

"  You  go  to  hell,"  Rasmunsen  repeated 
softly,  "and  get  out  of  here." 

Murray  gaped  with  a  great  awe,  then  went 
out  carefully,  backward,  with  his  eyes  fixed 
on  the  other's  face. 

Rasmunsen  followed  him  out  and  turned 
the  dogs  loose.  He  threw  them  all  the  sal 
mon  he  had  bought,  and  coiled  a  sled-lashing 
up  in  his  hand.  Then  he  reentered  the  cabin 
and  drew  the  latch  in  after  him.  The  smoke 
from  the  cindered  steak  made  his  eyes  smart. 


174     THE    ONE   THOUSAND    DOZEN 

He  stood  on  the  bunk,  passed  the  lashing  over 
the  ridge-pole,  and  measured  the  swing-off 
with  his  eye.  It  did  not  seem  to  satisfy,  for 
he  put  the  stool  on  the  bunk  and  climbed 
upon  the  stool.  He  drove  a  noose  in  the  end 
of  the  lashing  and  slipped  his  head  through. 
The  other  end  he  made  fast.  Then  he  kicked 
the  stool  out  from  under. 


THE    MARRIAGE   OF    LIT-LIT 


THE    MARRIAGE    OF    LIT-LIT1 

WHEN  John  Fox  came  into  a  coun 
try  where  whiskey  freezes  solid  and 
may  be  used  as  a  paper-weight  for  a 
large  part  of  the  year,  he  came  without  the 
ideals  and  illusions  that  usually  hamper  the 
progress  of  more  delicately  nurtured  adven 
turers.  Born  and  reared  on  the  frontier  fringe 
of  the  United  States,  he  took  with  him  into 
Canada  a  primitive  cast  of  mind,  an  elemental 
simplicity  and  grip  on  things,  as  it  were,  that 
insured  him  immediate  success  in  his  new 
career.  From  a  mere  servant  of  the  Hudson's 
Bay  Company,  driving  a  paddle  with  the 
voyageurs  and  carrying  goods  on  his  back 
across  the  portages,  he  swiftly  rose  to  a  Factor- 
ship  and  took  charge  of  a  trading  post  at  Fort 
Angelus. 

Here,  because   of  his  elemental   simplicity, 

1  Copyright,  1903,  by  Frank  Leslie  Publishing  House. 
N  I77 


178      THE   MARRIAGE   OF   LIT-LIT 

he  took  to  himself  a  native  wife,  and,  by 
reason  of  the  connubial  bliss  that  followed, 
he  escaped  the  unrest  and  vain  longings  that 
curse  the  days  of  more  fastidious  men,  spoil 
their  work,  and  conquer  them  in  the  end.  He 
lived  contentedly,  was  at  single  purposes  with 
the  business  he  was  set  there  to  do,  and 
achieved  a  brilliant  record  in  the  service  of 
the  Company.  About  this  time  his  wife  died, 
was  claimed  by  her  people,  and  buried  with 
savage  circumstance  in  a  tin  trunk  in  the  top 
of  a  tree. 

Two  sons  she  had  borne  him,  and  when 
the  Company  promoted  him,  he  journeyed  with 
them  still  deeper  into  the  vastness  of  the 
Northwest  Territory  to  a  place  called  Sin 
Rock,  where  he  took  charge  of  a  new  post  in 
a  more  important  fur  field.  Here  he  spent 
several  lonely  and  depressing  months,  emi 
nently  disgusted  with  the  unprepossessing 
appearance  of  the  Indian  maidens,  and  greatly 
worried  by  his  growing  sons  who  stood  in 
need  of  a  mother's  care.  Then  his  eyes 
chanced  upon  Lit-lit. 


THE    MARRIAGE    OF    LIT-LIT      179 

"  Lit-lit  —  well,  she  is  Lit-lit,"  was  the 
fashion  in  which  he  despairingly  described  her 
to  his  chief  clerk,  Alexander  McLean. 

McLean  was  too  fresh  from  his  Scottish 
upbringing  —  "not  dry  behind  the  ears  yet," 
John  Fox  put  it  —  to  take  to  the  marriage 
customs  of  the  country.  Nevertheless  he  was 
not  averse  to  the  Factor's  imperilling  his  own 
immortal  soul,  and,  especially,  feeling  an  omi 
nous  attraction  himself  for  Lit-lit,  he  was  som 
brely  content  to  clinch  his  own  soul's  safety  by 
seeing  her  married  to  the  Factor. 

Nor  is  it  to  be  wondered  that  McLean's 
austere  Scotch  soul  stood  in  danger  of  being 
thawed  in  the  sunshine  of  Lit-lit's  eyes.  She 
was  pretty,  and  slender,  and  willowy,  without 
the  massive  face  and  temperamental  stolidity 
of  the  average  squaw.  "  Lit-lit,"  so  called 
from  her  fashion,  even  as  a  child,  of  being  flut- 
tery,  of  darting  about  from  place  to  place  like  a 
butterfly,  of  being  inconsequent  and  merry, 
and  of  laughing  as  lightly  as  she  darted  and 
danced  about. 

Lit-lit  was    the    daughter  of  Snettishane,  a 


i8o      THE    MARRIAGE    OF   LIT-LIT 

prominent  chief  in  the  tribe,  by  a  half-breed 
mother,  and  to  him  the  Factor  fared  casually 
one  summer  day  to  open  negotiations  of  mar 
riage.  He  sat  with  the  chief  in  the  smoke  of 
a  mosquito  smudge  before  his  lodge,  and  to 
gether  they  talked  about  everything  under 
the  sun,  or,  at  least,  everything  that  in  the 
Northland  is  under  the  sun,  with  the  sole 
exception  of  marriage.  John  Fox  had  come 
particularly  to  talk  of  marriage ;  Snettishane 
knew  it,  and  John  Fox  knew  he  knew  it,  where 
fore  the  subject  was  religiously  avoided.  This 
is  alleged  to  be  Indian  subtlety.  In  reality  it  is 
transparent  simplicity. 

The  hours  slipped  by,  and  Fox  and  Snetti 
shane  smoked  interminable  pipes,  looking  each 
other  in  the  eyes  with  a  guilelessness  superbly 
histrionic.  In  the  mid-afternoon  McLean  and 
his  brother  clerk,  McTavish,  strolled  past,  in 
nocently  uninterested,  on  their  way  to  the 
river.  When  they  strolled  back  again  an 
hour  later,  Fox  and  Snettishane  had  attained 
to  a  ceremonious  discussion  of  the  condition 
and  quality  of  the  gunpowder  and  bacon  which 


THE    MARRIAGE    OF    LIT-LIT      181 

the  Company  was  offering  in  trade.  Mean 
while  Lit-lit,  divining  the  Factor's  errand,  had 
crept  in  under  the  rear  wall  of  the  lodge  and 
through  the  front  flap  was  peeping  out  at  the 
two  logomachists  by  the  mosquito  smudge. 
She  was  flushed  and  happy-eyed,  proud  that 
no  less  a  man  than  the  Factor  (who  stood  next 
to  God  in  the  Northland  hierarchy)  had 
singled  her  out,  femininely  curious  to  see  at 
close  range  what  manner  of  man  he  was.  Sun- 
glare  on  the  ice,  camp  smoke,  and  weather  beat 
had  burned  his  face  to  a  copper-brown,  so  that 
her  father  was  as  fair  as  he,  while  she  was  fairer. 
She  was  remotely  glad  of  this,  and  more  imme 
diately  glad  that  he  was  large  and  strong,  though 
his  great  black  beard  half  frightened  her,  it  was 
so  strange. 

Being  very  young,  she  was  unversed  in  the 
ways  of  men.  Seventeen  times  she  had  seen 
the  sun  travel  south  and  lose  itself  beyond  the 
sky-line,  and  seventeen  times  she  had  seen  it 
travel  back  again  and  ride  the  sky  day  and 
night  till  there  was  no  night  at  all.  And 
through  these  years  she  had  been  cherished 


1 82      THE    MARRIAGE    OF   LIT-LIT 

jealously  by  Snettishane,  who  stood  between 
her  and  all  suitors,  listening  disdainfully  to  the 
young  hunters  as  they  bid  for  her  hand,  and 
turning  them  away  as  though  she  were  beyond 
price.  Snettishane  was  mercenary.  Lit-lit  was 
to  him  an  investment.  She  represented  so 
much  capital,  from  which  he  expected  to 
receive,  not  a  certain  definite  interest,  but  an 
incalculable  interest. 

And  having  thus  been  reared  in  a  manner  as 
near  to  that  of  the  nunnery  as  tribal  conditions 
would  permit,  it  was  with  a  great  and  maidenly 
anxiety  that  she  peeped  out  at  the  man  who 
had  surely  come  for  her,  at  the  husband  who 
was  to  teach  her  all  that  was  yet  unlearned 
of  life,  at  the  masterful  being  whose  word 
was  to  be  her  law,  and  who  was  to  mete 
and  bound  her  actions  and  comportment  for 
the  rest  of  her  days. 

But,  peeping  through  the  front  flap  of  the 
lodge,  flushed  and  thrilling  at  the  strange  des 
tiny  reaching  out  for  her,  she  grew  disap 
pointed  as  the  day  wore  along,  and  the  Factor 
and  her  father  still  talked  pompously  of  matters 


THE    MARRIAGE    OF    LIT-LIT      183 

concerning  other  things  and  not  pertaining 
to  marriage  things  at  all.  As  the  sun  sank 
lower  and  lower  toward  the  north  and  mid 
night  approached,  the  Factor  began  making 
unmistakable  preparations  for  departure.  As 
he  turned  to  stride  away  Lit-lit's  heart  sank; 
but  it  rose  again  as  he  halted,  half  turning  on 
one  heel. 

"  Oh,  by  the  way,  Snettishane,"  he  said, 
"  I  want  a  squaw  to  wash  for  me  and  mend 
my  clothes." 

Snettishane  grunted  and  suggested  Wani- 
dani,  who  was  an  old  woman  and  toothless. 

"  No,  no,"  interposed  the  Factor.  "  What 
I  want  is  a  wife.  I've  been  kind  of  thinking 
about  it,  and  the  thought  just  struck  me  that 
you  might  know  of  some  one  that  would 


suit." 


Snettishane  looked  interested,  whereupon 
the  Factor  retraced  his  steps,  casually  and 
carelessly  to  linger  and  discuss  this  new  and 
incidental  topic. 

"  Kattou  ?  "   suggested  Snettishane. 

"  She  has  but  one  eye,"  objected  the  Factor. 


1 84      THE    MARRIAGE    OF   LIT-LIT 

«  Laska  ? " 

"Her  knees  be  wide  apart  when  she  stands 
upright.  Kips,  your  biggest  dog,  can  leap 
between  her  knees  when  she  stands  upright." 

"  Senatee  ?  "  went  on  the  imperturbable 
Snettishane. 

But  John  Fox  feigned  anger,  crying :  "  What 
foolishness  be  this  ?  Am  I  old,  that  thou 
shouldst  mate  me  with  old  women  ?  Am  I 
toothless  ?  lame  of  leg  ?  blind  of  eye  ?  Or 
am  I  poor  that  no  bright-eyed  maiden  may 
look  with  favor  upon  me  ?  Behold !  I  am 
the  Factor,  both  rich  and  great,  a  power  in 
the  land,  whose  speech  makes  men  tremble 
and  is  obeyed  !  " 

Snettishane  was  inwardly  pleased,  though  his 
sphinxlike  visage  never  relaxed.  He  was 
drawing  the  Factor,  and  making  him  break 
ground.  Being  a  creature  so  elemental  as  to 
have  room  for  but  one  idea  at  a  time,  Snetti 
shane  could  pursue  that  one  idea  a  greater  dis 
tance  than  could  John  Fox.  For  John  Fox, 
elemental  as  he  was,  was  still  complex  enough 
to  entertain  several  glimmering  ideas  at  a  time, 


THE    MARRIAGE   OF    LIT-LIT      185 

which  debarred  him  from  pursuing  the  one  as 
single-heartedly  or  as  far  as  did  the  chief. 

Snettishane  calmly  continued  calling  the 
roster  of  eligible  maidens,  which,  name  by 
name,  as  fast  as  uttered,  were  stamped  ineligible 
by  John  Fox,  with  specified  objections  ap 
pended.  Again  he  gave  it  up  and  started  to 
return  to  the  Fort.  Snettishane  watched  him 
go,  making  no  effort  to  stop  him,  but  seeing 
him,  in  the  end,  stop  himself. 

"  Come  to  think  of  it,"  the  Factor  remarked, 
"  we  both  of  us  forgot  Lit-lit.  Now  I  wonder 
if  she'll  suit  me  ?  " 

Snettishane  met  the  suggestion  with  a  mirth 
less  face,  behind  the  mask  of  which  his  soul 
grinned  wide.  It  was  a  distinct  victory.  Had 
the  Factor  gone  but  one  step  farther,  perforce 
Snettishane  would  himself  have  mentioned  the 
name  of  Lit-lit,  but  —  the  Factor  had  not 
gone  that  one  step  farther. 

The  chief  was  non-committal  concerning 
Lit-lit's  suitability,  till  he  drove  the  white  man 
into  taking  the  next  step  in  order  of  procedure. 

"Well/'  the  Factor  meditated  aloud,  "the 


i86      THE    MARRIAGE    OF   LIT-LIT 

only  way  to  find  out  is  to  make  a  try  of  it." 
He  raised  his  voice.  "  So  I  will  give  for  Lit- 
lit  ten  blankets  and  three  pounds  of  tobacco 
which  is  good  tobacco." 

Snettishane  replied  with  a  gesture  which 
seemed  to  say  that  all  the  blankets  and  tobacco 
in  all  the  world  could  not  compensate  him  for 
the  loss  of  Lit-lit  and  her  manifold  virtues. 
When  pressed  by  the  Factor  to  set  a  price,  he 
coolly  placed  it  at  five  hundred  blankets,  ten 
guns,  fifty  pounds  of  tobacco,  twenty  scarlet 
cloths,  ten  bottles  of  rum,  a  music-box,  and 
lastly  the  good-will  and  best  offices  of  the 
Factor,  with  a  place  by  his  fire. 

The  Factor  apparently  suffered  a  stroke  of 
apoplexy,  which  stroke  was  successful  in  reduc 
ing  the  blankets  to  two  hundred  and  in  cutting 
out  the  place  by  the  fire  —  an  unheard-of 
condition  in  the  marriages  of  white  men  with 
the  daughters  of  the  soil.  In  the  end,  after 
three  hours  more  of  chaffering,  they  came  to  an 
agreement.  For  Lit-lit  Snettishane  was  to  re 
ceive  one  hundred  blankets,  five  pounds  of 
tobacco,  three  guns,  and  a  bottle  of  rum,  good- 


THE    MARRIAGE    OF   LIT-LIT      187 

will  and  best  offices  included,  which,  according 
to  John  Fox,  was  ten  blankets  and  a  gun  more 
than  she  was  worth.  And  as  he  went  home 
through  the  wee  sma'  hours,  the  three  o'clock 
sun  blazing  in  the  due  northeast,  he  was  un 
pleasantly  aware  that  Snettishane  had  bested 
him  over  the  bargain. 

Snettishane,  tired  and  victorious,  sought  his 
bed,  and  discovered  Lit-lit  before  she  could 
escape  from  the  lodge. 

He  grunted  knowingly :  "  Thou  hast  seen. 
Thou  hast  heard.  Wherefore  it  be  plain  to 
thee  thy  father's  very  great  wisdom  and  un 
derstanding.  I  have  made  for  thee  a  great 
match.  Heed  my  words  and  walk  in  the  way 
of  my  words,  go  when  I  say  go,  come  when  I 
bid  thee  come,  and  we  shall  grow  fat  with  the 
wealth  of  this  big  white  man  who  is  a  fool 
according  to  his  bigness." 

The  next  day  no  trading  was  done  at  the 
store.  The  Factor  opened  whiskey  before 
breakfast  to  the  delight  of  McLean  and  Mc- 
Tavish,  gave  his  dogs  double  rations,  and 
wore  his  best  moccasins.  Outside  the  Fort 


1 88      THE    MARRIAGE    OF    LIT-LIT 

preparations  were  under  way  for  a  potlatch. 
Potlatch  means  "  a  giving,'*  and  John  Fox's 
intention  was  to  signalize  his  marriage  with 
Lit-lit  by  a  potlatch  as  generous  as  she  was 
good-looking.  In  the  afternoon  the  whole  tribe 
gathered  to  the  feast.  Men,  women,  children, 
and  dogs  gorged  to  repletion,  nor  was  there 
one  person,  even  among  the  chance  visitors 
and  stray  hunters  from  other  tribes,  who 
failed  to  receive  some  token  of  the  bride 
groom's  largess. 

Lit-lit,  tearfully  shy  and  frightened,  was 
bedecked  by  her  bearded  husband  with  a  new 
calico  dress,  splendidly  beaded  moccasins,  a 
gorgeous  silk  handkerchief  over  her  raven 
hair,  a  purple  scarf  about  her  throat,  brass  ear 
rings  and  finger-rings,  and  a  whole  pint  of 
pinchbeck  jewellery,  including  a  Waterbury 
watch.  Snettishane  could  scarce  contain  him 
self  at  the  spectacle,  but  watching  his  chance 
drew  her  aside  from  the  feast. 

"  Not  this  night,  nor  the  next  night,"  he 
began  ponderously,  "  but  in  the  nights  to  come, 
when  I  shall  call  like  a  raven  by  the  river 


THE    MARRIAGE    OF   LIT-LIT      189 

bank,  it  is  for  thee  to  rise  up  from  thy  big 
husband  who  is  a  fool  and  come  to  me. 

"  Nay,  nay,"  he  went  on  hastily,  at  sight 
of  the  dismay  in  her  face  at  turning  her  back 
upon  her  wonderful  new  life.  "  For  no  sooner 
shall  this  happen  than  thy  big  husband  who  is 
a  fool  will  come  wailing  to  my  lodge.  Then 
it  is  for  thee  to  wail  likewise,  claiming  that  this 
thing  is  not  well,  and  that  the  other  thing  thou 
dost  not  like,  and  that  to  be  the  wife  of  the 
Factor  is  more  than  thou  didst  bargain  for,, 
only  wilt  thou  be  content  with  more  blankets,, 
and  more  tobacco,  and  more  wealth  of  vari 
ous  sorts  for  thy  poor  old  father  Snettishane, 
Remember  well,  when  I  call  in  the  night,  like 
a  raven,  from  the  river  bank." 

Lit-lit  nodded  ;  for  to  disobey  her  father  was 
a  peril  she  knew  well ;  and,  furthermore,,  it  was 
a  little  thing  he  asked,  a  short  separation  from* 
the  Factor,  who  would  know  only  greater 
gladness  at  having  her  back.  She  returned 
to  the  feast,  and,  midnight  being  well  at 
hand,  the  Factor  sought  her  out  and  led 
her  away  to  the  Fort  amid  joking  and  out- 


190      THE    MARRIAGE    OF   LIT-LIT 

cry  in  which  the  squaws  were  especially 
conspicuous. 

Lit-lit  quickly  found  that  married  life  with 
the  head-man  of  a  fort  was  even  better  than  she 
had  dreamed.  No  longer  did  she  have  to  fetch 
wood  and  water  and  wait  hand  and  foot  upon 
cantankerous  menfolk.  For  the  first  time  in 
her  life  she  could  lie  abed  till  breakfast  was 
on  the  table.  And  what  a  bed! — clean  and 
soft,  and  comfortable  as  no  bed  she  had  ever 
known.  And  such  food  !  Flour,  cooked  into 
biscuits,  hot-cakes  and  bread,  three  times  a  day 
and  every  day,  and  all  one  wanted  !  Such 
prodigality  was  hardly  believable. 

To  add  to  her  contentment,  the  Factor  was 
cunningly  kind.  He  had  buried  one  wife,  and 
he  knew  how  to  drive  with  a  slack  rein  that 
went  firm  only  on  occasion,  and  then  went  very 
firm.  "  Lit-lit  is  boss  of  this  place,"  he  an 
nounced  significantly  at  the  table  the  morning 
after  the  wedding.  "  What  she  says  goes. 
Understand?"  And  McLean  and  McTavish 
understood.  Also,  they  knew  that  the  Factor 
had  a  heavy  hand. 


THE   MARRIAGE    OF    LIT-LIT      191 

But  Lit-lit  did  not  take  advantage.  Taking 
a  leaf  from  the  book  of  her  husband,  she  at 
once  assumed  charge  of  his  two  growing  sons, 
giving  them  added  comforts  and  a  measure  of 
freedom  like  to  that  which  he  gave  her.  The 
two  sons  were  loud  in  the  praise  of  their  new 
mother ;  McLean  and  McTavish  lifted  their 
voices  ;  and  the  Factor  bragged  of  the  joys  of 
matrimony  till  the  story  of  her  good  behavior 
and  her  husband's  satisfaction  became  the 
property  of  all  the  dwellers  in  the  Sin  Rock 
district. 

Whereupon  Snettishane,  with  visions  of  his 
incalculable  interest  keeping  him  awake  of 
nights,  thought  it  time  to  bestir  himself.  On 
the  tenth  night  of  her  wedded  life  Lit-lit  was 
awakened  by  the  croaking  of  a  raven,  and  she 
knew  that  Snettishane  was  waiting  for  her  by 
the  river  bank.  In  her  great  happiness  she 
had  forgotten  her  pact,  and  now  it  came  back 
to  her  with  behind  it  all  the  childish  terror  of 
her  father.  For  a  time  she  lay  in  fear  and 
trembling,  loath  to  go,  afraid  to  stay.  But  in 
the  end  the  Factor  won  the  silent  victory,  and 


192      THE   MARRIAGE    OF   LIT-LIT 

his  kindness,  plus  his  great  muscles  and 
square  jaw,  nerved  her  to  disregard  Snetti- 
shane's  call. 

But  in  the  morning  she  arose  very  much 
afraid,  and  went  about  her  duties  in  momen 
tary  fear  of  her  father's  coming.  As  the  day 
wore  along,  however,  she  began  to  recover  her 
spirits.  John  Fox,  soundly  berating  McLean 
and  McTavish  for  some  petty  dereliction  of 
duty,  helped  her  to  pluck  up  courage.  She 
tried  not  to  let  him  go  out  of  her  sight,  and 
when  she  followed  him  into  the  huge  cache 
and  saw  him  twirling  and  tossing  great  bales 
around  as  though  they  were  feather  pillows, 
she  felt  strengthened  in  her  disobedience  to 
her  father.  Also  (it  was  her  first  visit  to  the 
warehouse,  and  Sin  Rock  was  the  chief  dis 
tributing  point  to  several  chains  of  lesser  posts), 
she  was  astounded  at  the  endlessness  of  the 
wealth  there  stored  away. 

This  sight,  and  the  picture  in  her  mind's 
eye  of  the  bare  lodge  of  Snettishane,  put  all 
doubts  at  rest.  Yet  she  capped  her  convic 
tion  by  a  brief  word  with  one  of  her  stepsons. 


THE    MARRIAGE    OF   LIT-LIT      193 

"  White  daddy  good?'*  was  what  she  asked, 
and  the  boy  answered  that  his  father  was  the 
best  man  he  had  ever  known.  That  night 
the  raven  croaked  again.  On  the  night  fol 
lowing  the  croaking  was  more  persistent.  It 
awoke  the  Factor,  who  tossed  restlessly  for  a 
while.  Then  he  said  aloud,  "  Damn  that 
raven,"  and  Lit-lit  laughed  quietly  under  the 
blankets. 

In  the  morning,  bright  and  early,  Snetti- 
shane  put  in  an  ominous  appearance,  and  was 
set  to  breakfast  in  the  kitchen  with  Wanidani. 
He  refused  "  squaw  food,"  and  a  little  later 
bearded  his  son-in-law  in  the  store  where  the 
trading  was  done.  Having  learned,  he  said, 
that  his  daughter  was  such  a  jewel,  he  had 
come  for  more  blankets,  more  tobacco,  and 
more  guns  —  especially  more  guns.  He  had 
certainly  been  cheated  in  her  price,  he  held,  and 
he  had  come  for  justice.  But  the  Factor  had 
neither  blankets  nor  justice  to  spare.  Where 
upon  he  was  informed  that  Snettishane  had  seen 
the  missionary  at  Three  Forks,  who  had  noti 
fied  him  that  such  marriages  were  not  made 


i94      THE    MARRIAGE    OF   LIT-LIT 

in  heaven,  and  that  it  was  his  father's  duty  to 
demand  his  daughter  back. 

"  I  am  good  Christian  man  now,"  Snetti- 
shane  concluded.  "  I  want  my  Lit-lit  to  go  to 
heaven." 

The  Factor's  reply  was  short  and  to  the 
point ;  for  he  directed  his  father-in-law  to  go 
to  the  heavenly  antipodes,  and  by  the  scruff  of 
the  neck  and  the  slack  of  the  blanket  pro 
pelled  him  on  that  trail  as  far  as  the  door. 

But  Snettishane  sneaked  around  and  in 
by  the  kitchen,  cornering  Lit-lit  in  the  great 
living-room  of  the  Fort. 

"  Mayhap  thou  didst  sleep  oversound  last 
night  when  I  called  by  the  river  bank,"  he 
began,  glowering  darkly. 

"  Nay,  I  was  awake  and  heard."  Her  heart 
was  beating  as  though  it  would  choke  her,  but 
she  went  on  steadily,  "  And  the  night  before 
I  was  awake  and  heard,  and  yet  again  the  night 
before." 

And  thereat,  out  of  her  great  happiness  and 
out  of  the  fear  that  it  might  be  taken  from  her, 
she  launched  into  an  original  and  glowing  ad- 


THE    MARRIAGE    OF   LIT-LIT      195 

dress  upon  the  status  and  rights  of  woman  — 
the  first  new-woman  lecture  delivered  north  of 
Fifty-three. 

But  it  fell  on  unheeding  ears.  Snettishane 
was  still  in  the  dark  ages.  As  she  paused  for 
breath,  he  said  threateningly,  "  To-night  I 
shall  call  again  like  the  raven." 

At  this  moment  the  Factor  entered  the 
room  and  again  helped  Snettishane  on  his  way 
to  the  heavenly  antipodes. 

That  night  the  raven  croaked  more  per 
sistently  than  ever.  Lit-lit,  who  was  a  light 
sleeper,  heard  and  smiled.  John  Fox  tossed 
restlessly.  Then  he  awoke  and  tossed  about 
with  greater  restlessness.  He  grumbled  and 
snorted,  swore  under  his  breath  and  over  his 
breath,  and  finally  flung  out  of  bed.  He  groped 
his  way  to  the  great  living-room  and  from  the 
rack  took  down  a  loaded  shot-gun  —  loaded  with 
bird  shot,  left  therein  by  the  careless  McTavish. 

The  Factor  crept  carefully  out  of  the  Fort 
and  down  to  the  river.  The  croaking  had 
ceased,  but  he  stretched  out  in  the  long 
grass  and  waited.  The  air  seemed  a  chilly 


196      THE    MARRIAGE    OF   LIT-LIT 

balm,  and  the  earth,  after  the  heat  of  the  day, 
now  and  again  breathed  soothingly  against  him. 
The  Factor,  gathered  into  the  rhythm  of  it  all, 
dozed  off,  with  his  head  upon  his  arm,  and 
slept. 

Fifty  yards  away,  head  resting  on  knees,  and 
with  his  back  to  John  Fox,  Snettishane  like 
wise  slept,  gently  conquered  by  the  quietude 
of  the  night.  An  hour  slipped  by  and  then 
he  awoke,  and,  without  lifting  his  head,  set  the 
night  vibrating  with  the  hoarse  gutturals  of 
the  raven  call. 

The  Factor  roused,  not  with  the  abrupt 
start  of  civilized  man,  but  with  the  swift  and 
comprehensive  glide  from  sleep  to  waking  of 
.the  savage.  In  the  night  light  he  made  out  a 
dark  object  in  the  midst  of  the  grass  and 
brought  his  gun  to  bear  upon  it.  A  second 
croak  began  to  rise,  and  he  pulled  the  trigger. 
The  crickets  ceased  from  their  sing-song  chant, 
the  wild  fowl  from  their  squabbling,  and  the 
raven  croak  broke  midmost  and  died  away 
in  gasping  silence. 

John    Fox    ran     to    the    spot    and    reached 


THE    MARRIAGE    OF   LIT-LIT      197 

for  the  thing  he  had  killed,  but  his  fin 
gers  closed  on  a  coarse  mop  of  hair  and  he 
turned  Snettishane's  face  upward  to  the  star 
light.  He  knew  how  a  shot-gun  scattered  at 
fifty  yards,  and  he  knew  that  he  had  peppered 
Snettishane  across  the  shoulders  and  in  the 
small  of  the  back.  And  Snettishane  knew 
that  he  knew,  but  neither  referred  to  it. 

"  What  dost  thou  here  ?  "  the  Factor  de 
manded.  "  It  were  time  old  bones  should 
be  in  bed." 

But  Snettishane  was  stately  in  spite  of  the 
bird  shot  burning  under  his  skin. 

"  Old  bones  will  not  sleep,"  he  said 
solemnly.  "  I  weep  for  my  daughter,  for 
my  daughter  Lit-lit,  who  liveth  and  who  yet 
is  dead,  and  who  goeth  without  doubt  to  the 
white  man's  hell." 

"  Weep  henceforth  on  the  far  bank,  beyond 
earshot  of  the  fort,"  said  John  Fox,  turning 
on  his  heel,  "  for  the  noise  of  thy  weeping 
is  exceeding  great  and  will  not  let  one  sleep 
>of  nights." 

cc  My  heart  is  sore,"  Snettishane  answered, 


198      THE    MARRIAGE    OF    LIT-LIT 

"  and  my  days  and  nights  be  black  with 
sorrow." 

"As  the  raven    is   black,"    said  John  Fox. 

"  As  the  raven  is  black,"  Snettishane  said. 

Never  again  was  the  voice  of  the  raven 
heard  by  the  river  bank.  Lit-lit  grows 
matronly  day  by  day  and  is  very  happy. 
Also,  there  are  sisters  to  the  sons  of  John 
Fox's  first  wife  who  lies  buried  in  a  tree. 
Old  Snettishane  is  no  longer  a  visitor  at  the 
Fort,  and  spends  long  hours  raising  a  thin> 
aged  voice  against  the  filial  ingratitude  of 
children  in  general  and  of  his  daughter  Lit-lit 
in  particular.  His  declining  years  are  em 
bittered  by  the  knowledge  that  he  was  cheated, 
and  even  John  Fox  has  withdrawn  the  asser 
tion  that  the  price  for  Lit-lit  was  too  much 
by  ten  blankets  and  a  gun. 


BATARD 


BATARD 

BATARD  was  a  devil.  This  was  rec 
ognized  throughout  the  Northland. 
"  Hell's  Spawn "  he  was  called  by 
many  men,  but  his  master,  Black  Leclere, 
chose  for  him  the  shameful  name  "  Batard." 
Now  Black  Leclere  was  also  a  devil,  and  the 
twain  were  well  matched.  There  is  a  saying 
that  when  two  devils  come  together,  hell 
is  to  pay.  This  is  to  be  expected,  and  this 
certainly  was  to  be  expected  when  Batard  and 
Black  Leclere  came  together.  The  first  time 
they  met,  Batard  was  a  part-grown  puppy, 
lean  and  hungry,  with  bitter  eyes ;  and 
they  met  with  snap  and  snarl,  and  wicked 
looks,  for  Leclere's  upper  lip  had  a  wolfish 
*way  of  lifting  and  showing  the  white,  cruel 
teeth.  And  it  lifted  then,  and  his  eyes  glinted 
viciously,  as  he  reached  for  Batard  and  dragged 

201 


202  BATARD 

him  out  from  the  squirming  litter.  It  was 
certain  that  they  divined  each  other,  for  on  the 
instant  Batard  had  buried  his  puppy  fangs  in 
Leclere's  hand,  and  Leclere,  thumb  and  finger, 
was  coolly  choking  his  young  life  out  of  him. 

"  Sacredam"  the  Frenchman  said  softly, 
flirting  the  quick  blood  from  his  bitten  hand 
and  gazing  down  on  the  little  puppy  choking 
and  gasping  in  the  snow. 

Leclere  turned  to  John  Hamlin,  storekeeper 
of  the  Sixty  Mile  Post.  "  Dat  fo*  w'at  Ah 
lak  heem.  'Ow  moch,  eh,  you,  M'sieu*  ? 
'Ow  moch  ?  Ah  buy  heem,  now ;  Ah  buy 
heem  queek." 

And  because  he  hated  him  with  an  exceed 
ing  bitter  hate,  Leclere  bought  Batard  and  gave 
him  his  shameful  name.  And  for  five  years 
the  twain  adventured  across  the  Northland, 
from  St.  Michael's  and  the  Yukon  delta  to 
the  head-reaches  of  the  Pelly  and  even  so  far 
as  the  Peace  River,  Athabasca,  and  the  Great 
Slave.  And  they  acquired  a  reputation  for 
uncompromising  wickedness,  the  like  of  which 
never  before  attached  itself  to  man  and  dog. 


BATARD  203 

Batard  did  not  know  his  father,  —  hence  his 
name,  —  but,  as  John  Hamlin  knew,  his  father 
was  a  great  gray  timber  wolf.  But  the  mother 
of  Batard,  as  he  dimly  remembered  her,  was 
snarling,  bickering,  obscene,  husky,  full-fronted 
and  heavy-chested,  with  a  malign  eye,  a  cat 
like  grip  on  life,  and  a  genius  for  trickery 
and  evil.  There  was  neither  faith  nor  trust 
in  her.  Her  treachery  alone  could  be  relied 
upon,  and  her  wild-wood  amours  attested  her 
general  depravity.  Much  of  evil  and  much 
of  strength  were  there  in  these,  Batard's  pro 
genitors,  and,  bone  and  flesh  of  their  bone  and 
flesh,  he  had  inherited  it  all.  And  then  came 
Black  Leclere,  to  lay  his  heavy  hand  on  the 
bit  of  pulsating  puppy  life,  to  press  and  prod 
and  mould  till  it  became  a  big  bristling  beast, 
acute  in  knavery,  overspilling  with  hate,  sinis 
ter,  malignant,  diabolical.  With  a  proper 
master  Batard  might  have  made  an  ordinary, 
fairly  efficient  sled-dog.  He  never  got  the 
chance :  Leclere  but  confirmed  him  in  his 
congenital  iniquity. 

The    history    of    Batard    and    Leclere    is    a 


204  BATARD 

history  of  war  —  of  five  cruel,  relentless  years, 
of  which  their  first  meeting  is  fit  summary. 
To  begin  with,  it  was  Leclere's  fault,  for  he 
hated  with  understanding  and  intelligence, 
while  the  long-legged,  ungainly  puppy  hated 
only  blindly,  instinctively,  without  reason  or 
method.  At  first  there  were  no  refinements  of 
cruelty  (these  were  to  come  later),  but  simple 
beatings  and  crude  brutalities.  In  one  of 
these  Batard  had  an  ear  injured.  He  never 
regained  control  of  the  riven  muscles,  and 
ever  after  the  ear  drooped  limply  down  ta 
keep  keen  the  memory  of  his  tormentor. 
And  he  never  forgot. 

His  puppyhood  was  a  period  of  foolish 
rebellion.  He  was  always  worsted,  but  he 
fought  back  because  it  was  his  nature  to  fight 
back.  And  he  was  unconquerable.  Yelping 
shrilly  from  the  pain  of  lash  and  club,  he 
none  the  less  contrived  always  to  throw  in  the 
defiant  snarl,  the  bitter  vindictive  menace  of  his 
soul  which  fetched  without  fail  more  blows 
and  beatings.  But  his  was  his  mother's  tena 
cious  grip  on  life.  Nothing  could  kill  him. 


BATARD  205 

He  flourished  under  misfortune,  grew  fat  with 
famine,  and  out  of  his  terrible  struggle  for 
life  developed  a  preternatural  intelligence, 
His  were  the  stealth  and  cunning  of  the 
husky,  his  mother,  and  the  fierceness  and 
valor  of  the  wolf,  his  father. 

Possibly  it  was  because  of  his  father  that 
he  never  wailed.  His  puppy  yelps  passed 
with  his  lanky  legs,  so  that  he  became  grim 
and  taciturn,  quick  to  strike,  slow  to  warn. 
He  answered  curse  with  snarl,  and  blow  with 
snap,  grinning  the  while  his  implacable  hatred  ; 
but  never  again,  under  the  extremest  agony,. 
did  Leclere  bring  from  him  the  cry  of  fear 
nor  of  pain.  This  unconquerableness  but 
fanned  Leclere's  wrath  and  stirred  him  to 
greater  deviltries. 

Did  Leclere  give  Batard  half  a  fish  and  to 
his  mates  whole  ones,  Batard  went  forth  to 
rob  other  dogs  of  their  fish.  Also  he  robbed 
caches  and  expressed  himself  in  a  thousand 
rogueries,  till  he  became  a  terror  to  all  dogs 
and  masters  of  dogs.  Did  Leclere  beat  Batard 
and  fondle  Babette,  —  Babette  who  was  not 


206  BATARD 

half  the  worker  he  was,  —  why,  Batard  threw 
her  down  in  the  snow  and  broke  her  hind 
leg  in  his  heavy  jaws,  so  that  Leclere  was 
forced  to  shoot  her.  Likewise,  in  bloody 
battles,  Batard  mastered  all  his  team-mates, 
set  them  the  law  of  trail  and  forage,  and  made 
them  live  to  the  law  he  set. 

In  five  years  he  heard  but  one  kind  word, 
received  but  one  soft  stroke  of  a  hand,  and 
then  he  did  not  know  what  manner  of  things 
they  were.  He  leaped  like  the  untamed  thing 
he  was,  and  his  jaws  were  together  in  a  flash. 
It  was  the  missionary  at  Sunrise,  a  newcomer 
in  the  country,  who  spoke  the  kind  word  and 
gave  the  soft  stroke  of  the  hand.  And  for 
six  months  after,  he  wrote  no  letters  home  to 
the  States,  and  the  surgeon  at  McQuestion 
travelled  two  hundred  miles  on  the  ice  to  save 
him  from  blood-poisoning. 

Men  and  dogs  looked  askance  at  Batard 
when  he  drifted  into  their  camps  and  posts. 
The  men  greeted ,  him  with  feet  threateningly 
lifted  for  the  kick,  the  dogs  with  bristling 
manes  and  bared  fangs.  Once  a  man  did  kick 


BATARD  207 

Batard,  and  Batard,  with  quick  wolf  snap, 
closed  his  jaws  like  a  steel  trap  on  the 
man's  calf  and  crunched  down  to  the  bone. 
Whereat  the  man  was  determined  to  have  his 
life,  only  Black  Leclere,  with  ominous  eyes 
and  naked  hunting- knife,  stepped  in  between. 
The  killing  of  Batard  —  ah,  sacredam,  that 
was  a  pleasure  Leclere  reserved  for  himself. 
Some  day  it  would  happen,  or  else  —  bah ! 
who  was  to  know?  Anyway,  the  problem 
would  be  solved. 

For  they  had  become  problems  to  each 
other.  The  very  breath  each  drew  was  a 
challenge  and  a  menace  to  the  other.  Their 
hate  bound  them  together  as  love  could  never 
bind.  Leclere  was  bent  on  the  coming  of  the 
day  when  Batard  should  wilt  in  spirit  and 
cringe  and  whimper  at  his  feet.  And  Batard 
—  Leclere  knew  what  was  in  Batard's  mind, 
and  more  than  once  had  read  it  in  Batard's 
eyes.  And  so  clearly  had  he  read,  that  when 
Batard  was  at  his  back,  he  made  it  a  point  to 
glance  often  over  his  shoulder. 

Men  marvelled  when  Leclere  refused  large 


2o8  BATARD 

money  for  the  dog.  "  Some  day  you'll  kill 
him  and  be  out  his  price/*  said  John  Hamlin 
once,  when  Batard  lay  panting  in  the  snow 
where  Leclere  had  kicked  him,  and  no  one 
knew  whether  his  ribs  were  broken,  and  no 
one  dared  look  to  see. 

"  Dat,"  said  Leclere,  dryly,  "  dat  is  my  biz'- 
ness,  M 'sieu '." 

And  the  men  marvelled  that  Batard  did 
not  run  away.  They  did  not  understand. 
But  Leclere  understood.  He  was  a  man  who 
lived  much  in  the  open,  beyond  the  sound  of 
human  tongue,  and  he  had  learned  the  voices 
of  wind  and  storm,  the  sigh  of  night,  the 
whisper  of  dawn,  the  clash  of  day.  In  a  dim 
way  he  could  hear  the  green  things  growing, 
the  running  of  the  sap,  the  bursting  of  the  bud. 
And  he  knew  the  subtle  speech  of  the  things 
that  moved,  of  the  rabbit  in  the  snare,  the 
moody  raven  beating  the  air  with  hollow  wing, 
the  baldface  shuffling  under  the  moon,  the 
wolf  like  a  gray  shadow  gliding  betwixt  the 
twilight  and  the  dark.  And  to  him  Batard 
spoke  clear  and  direct.  Full  well  he  under- 


BATARD  209 

stood  why  Batard  did  not   run  away,  and  he 
Jooked  more  often  over  his  shoulder. 

When  in  anger,  Batard  was  not  nice  to  look 
upon,  and  more  than  once  had  he  leapt  for 
Leclere's  throat,  to  be  stretched  quivering  and 
senseless  in  the  snow,  by  the  butt  of  the  ever 
ready  dogwhip.  And  so  Batard  learned  to 
bide  his  time.  When  he  reached  his  full 
strength  and  prime  of  youth,  he  thought  the 
time  had  come.  He  was  broad-chested,  power 
fully  muscled,  of  far  more  than  ordinary  size, 
and  his  neck  from  head  to  shoulders  was  a 
mass  of  bristling  hair  —  to  all  appearances 
a  full-blooded  wolf.  Leclere  was  lying  asleep 
in  his  furs  when  Batard  deemed  the  time  to  be 
ripe.  He  crept  upon  him  stealthily,  head  low 
to  earth  and  lone  ear  laid  back,  with  a  feline 
softness  of  tread.  Batard  breathed  gently,  very 
gently,  and  not  till  he  was  close  at  hand  did 
he  raise  his  head.  He  paused  for  a  moment, 
and  looked  at  the  bronzed  bull  throat,  naked 
and  knotty,  and  swelling  to  a  deep  and  steady 
pulse.  The  slaver  dripped  down  his  fangs 
and  slid  off  his  tongue  at  the  sight,  and  in 


2io  BATARD 

that  moment  he  remembered  his  drooping  ear, 
his  uncounted  blows  and  prodigious  wrongs, 
and  without  a  sound  sprang  on  the  sleeping 
man. 

Leclere  awoke  to  the  pang  of  the  fangs  in 
his  throat,  and,  perfect  animal  that  he  was, 
he  awoke  clear-headed  and  with  full  compre 
hension.  He  closed  on  Batard's  windpipe 
with  both  his  hands,  and  rolled  out  of  his  furs 
to  get  his  weight  uppermost.  But  the  thou 
sands  of  Batard's  ancestors  had  clung  at  the 
throats  of  unnumbered  moose  and  caribou  and 
dragged  them  down,  and  the  wisdom  of  those 
ancestors  was  his.  When  Leclere's  weight 
came  on  top  of  him,  he  drove  his  hind  legs 
upward  and  in,  and  clawed  down  chest  and 
abdomen,  ripping  and  tearing  through  skin 
and  muscle.  And  when  he  felt  the  man's  body 
wince  above  him  and  lift,  he  worried  and  shook 
at  the  man's  throat.  His  team-mates  closed 
around  in  a  snarling  circle,  and  Batard,  with 
failing  breath  and  fading  sense,  knew  that  their 
jaws  were  hungry  for  him.  But  that  did  not 
matter  —  it  was  the  man,  the  man  above  him, 


BATARD  211 

and  he  ripped  and  clawed,  and  shook  and 
worried,  to  the  last  ounce  of  his  strength.  But 
Leclere  choked  him  with  both  his  hands,  till 
Batard's  chest  heaved  and  writhed  for  the  air 
denied,  and  his  eyes  glazed  and  set,  and  his 
jaws  slowly  loosened,  and  his  tongue  protruded 
black  and  swollen. 

"  Eh  ?  Bon,,  you  devil !  "  Leclere  gurgled, 
mouth  and  throat  clogged  with  his  own  blood, 
as  he  shoved  the  dizzy  dog  from  him. 

And  then  Leclere  cursed  the  other  dogs 
off  as  they  fell  upon  Batard.  They  drew  back 
into  a  wider  circle,  squatting  alertly  on  their 
haunches  and  licking  their  chops,  the  hair  on 
every  neck  bristling  and  erect. 

Batard  recovered  quickly,  and  at  sound  of 
Leclere's  voice,  tottered  to  his  feet  and  swayed 
weakly  back  and  forth. 

"  A-h-ah  !  You  beeg  devil !  "  Leclere  splut 
tered.  "Ah  fix  you ;  Ah  fix  you  plentee,  by 
Gar!" 

Batard,  the  air  biting  into  his  exhausted 
lungs  like  wine,  flashed  full  into  the  man's 
face,  his  jaws  missing  and  coming  together 


212  BATARD 

with  a  metallic  clip.  They  rolled  over  and 
over  on  the  snow,  Leclere  striking  madly  with 
his  fists.  Then  they  separated,  face  to  face, 
and  circled  back  and  forth  before  each  other. 
Leclere  could  have  drawn  his  knife.  His 
rifle  was  at  his  feet.  But  the  beast  in  him 
was  up  and  raging.  He  would  do  the  thing 
with  his  hands  —  and  his  teeth.  Batard 
sprang  in,  but  Leclere  knocked  him  over  with 
a  blow  of  the  fist,  fell  upon  him,  and  buried 
his  teeth  to  the  bone  in  the  dog's  shoulder. 

It  was  a  primordial  setting  and  a  primordial 
scene,  such  as  might  have  been  in  the  savage 
youth  of  the  world.  An  open  space  in  a  dark 
forest,  a  ring  of  grinning  wolf-dogs,  and  in  the 
centre  two  beasts,  locked  in  combat,  snapping 
and  snarling,  raging  madly  about,  panting, 
sobbing,  cursing,  straining,  wild  with  passion, 
in  a  fury  of  murder,  ripping  and  tearing  and 
clawing  in  elemental  brutishness. 

But  Leclere  caught  Batard  behind  the  ear, 
with  a  blow  from  his  fist,  knocking  him  over, 
and,  for  the  instant,  stunning  him.  Then 
Leclere  leaped  upon  him  with  his  feet,  and 


BATARD  213 

sprang  up  and  down,  striving  to  grind  him 
into  the  earth.  Both  Batard's  hind  legs  were 
broken  ere  Leclere  ceased  that  he  might  catch 
breath. 

"  A-a-ah  !  A-a-ah  !  "  he  screamed,  incapa 
ble  of  speech,  shaking  his  fist,  through  sheer 
impotence  of  throat  and  larynx. 

But  Batard  was  indomitable.  He  lay  there 
in  a  helpless  welter,  his  lip  feebly  lifting  and 
writhing  to  the  snarl  he  had  not  the  strength 
to  utter.  Leclere  kicked  him,  and  the  tired 
jaws  closed  on  the  ankle,  but  could  not  break 
the  skin. 

Then  Leclere  picked  up  the  whip  and  pro 
ceeded  almost  to  cut  him  to  pieces,  at  each 
stroke  of  the  lash  crying :  "  Dis  taim  Ah  break 
you!  Eh?  By  Gar!  Ah  break  you !" 

In  the  end,  exhausted,  fainting  from  loss 
of  blood,  he  crumpled  up  and  fell  by  his  vic 
tim,  and  when  the  wolf-dogs  closed  in  to  take 
their  vengeance,  with  his  last  consciousness 
dragged  his  body  on  top  Batard  to  shield  him 
from  their  fangs. 

This  occurred  not  far  from  Sunrise,  and  the 


214  BATARD 

missionary,  opening  the  door  to  Leclere  a  few 
hours  later,  was  surprised  to  note  the  absence 
of  Batard  from  the  team.  Nor  did  his  surprise 
lessen  when  Leclere  threw  back  the  robes  from 
the  sled,  gathered  Batard  into  his  arms,  and 
staggered  across  the  threshold.  It  happened 
that  the  surgeon  of  McQuestion,  who  was 
something  of  a  gadabout,  was  up  on  a  gossip, 
and  between  them  they  proceeded  to  repair 
Leclere. 

"  Merc^  non"  said  he.  "  Do  you  fix  firs' 
de  dog.  To  die  ?  Non.  Eet  is  not  good. 
Becos'  heem  Ah  mus'  yet  break.  Dat  fo* 
w'at  he  mus'  not  die." 

The  surgeon  called  it  a  marvel,  the  missionary 
a  miracle,  that  Leclere  pulled  through  at  all;  and 
so  weakened  was  he,  that  in  the  spring  the  fever 
got  him,  and  he  went  on  his  back  again.  Batard 
had  been  in  even  worse  plight,  but  his  grip 
on  life  prevailed,  and  the  bones  of  his  hind 
legs  knit,  and  his  organs  righted  themselves, 
during  the  several  weeks  he  lay  strapped  to 
the  floor.  And  by  the  time  Leclere,  finally 
convalescent,  sallow  and  shaky,  took  the  sun 


BATARD  215 

by  the  cabin  door,  Batard  had  reasserted  his 
supremacy  among  his  kind,  and  brought  not 
only  his  own  team-mates  but  the  missionary's 
dogs  into  subjection. 

He  moved  never  a  muscle,  nor  twitched  a 
hair,  when,  for  the  first  time,  Leclere  tottered 
out  on  the  missionary's  arm,  and  sank  down 
slowly  and  with  infinite  caution  on  the  three- 
legged  stool. 

"  Bon  !  "  he  said.  "  Bon  !  De  good  sun  !  " 
And  he  stretched  out  his  wasted  hands  and 
washed  them  in  the  warmth. 

Then  his  gaze  fell  on  the  dog,  and  the  old 
light  blazed  back  in  his  eyes.  He  touched 
the  missionary  lightly  on  the  arm.  "  Mon 
pere,  dat  is  one  beeg  devil,  dat  Batard.  You 
will  bring  me  one  pistol,  so,  dat  Ah  drink  de 
sun  in  peace." 

And  thenceforth  for  many  days  he  sat  in 
the  sun  before  the  cabin  door.  He  never 
dozed,  and  the  pistol  lay  always  across  his 
knees.  Batard  had  a  way,  the  first  thing  each 
day,  of  looking  for  the  weapon  in  its  wonted 
place.  At  sight  of  it  he  would  lift  his  lip 


216  BATARD 

faintly  in  token  that  he  understood,  and 
Leclere  would  lift  his  own  lip  in  an  answering 
grin.  One  day  the  missionary  took  note  of 
the  trick. 

"  Bless  me  !  "  he  said.  "  I  really  believe 
the  brute  comprehends.'* 

Leclere  laughed  softly.  "  Look  you,  mon 
fere.  Dat  w'at  Ah  now  spik,  to  dat  does  he 
lissen." 

As  if  in  confirmation,  Batard  just  perceptibly 
wriggled  his  lone  ear  up  to  catch  the  sound. 

"  Ah  say  £  keel/  " 

Batard  growled  deep  down  in  his  throat,  the 
hair  bristled  along  his  neck,  and  every  muscle 
went  tense  and  expectant. 

"  Ah  lift  de  gun,  so,  like  dat."  And  suit 
ing  action  to  word,  he  sighted  the  pistol  at 
Batard. 

Batard,  with  a  single  leap,  sideways,  landed 
around  the  corner  of  the  cabin  out  of  sight. 

"  Bless  me  ! "  he  repeated  at  intervals. 

Leclere  grinned  proudly. 

"  But  why  does  he  not  run  away  ? " 

The  Frenchman's  shoulders  went  up  in  the 


BATARD  217 

racial  shrug  that  means  all  things  from  total 
ignorance  to  infinite  understanding. 

"  Then  why  do  you  not  kill  him  ?  " 

Again  the  shoulders  went  up. 

"  Mon  fere"  he  said  after  a  pause,  "  de 
taim  is  not  yet.  He  is  one  beeg  devil.  Some 
taim  Ah  break  heem,  so,  an'  so,  all  to  leetle 
bits.  Hey  ?  Some  taim.  Eon  I  " 

A  day  came  when  Leclere  gathered  his 
dogs  together  and  floated  down  in  a  bateau 
to  Forty  Mile,  and  on  to  the  Porcupine,  where 
he  took  a  commission  from  the  P.  C.  Com 
pany,  and  went  exploring  for  the  better  part 
of  a  year.  After  that  he  poled  up  the  Koyo- 
kuk  to  deserted  Arctic  City,  and  later  came 
drifting  back,  from  camp  to  camp,  along  the 
Yukon.  And  during  the  long  months  Batard 
was  well  lessoned.  He  learned  many  tortures, 
and,  notably,  the  torture  of  hunger,  the  torture 
of  thirst,  the  torture  of  fire,  and,  worst  of  all, 
the  torture  of  music. 

Like  the  rest  of  his  kind,  he  did  not  enjoy 
music.  It  gave  him  exquisite  anguish,  racking 
him  nerve  by  nerve,  and  ripping  apart  every 


2i  8  BATARD 

fibre  of  his  being.  It  made  him  howl,  long 
and  wolf-like,  as  when  the  wolves  bay  the  stars 
on  frosty  nights.  He  could  not  help  howling. 
It  was  his  one  weakness  in  the  contest  with 
Leclere,  and  it  was  his  shame.  Leclere,  on 
the  other  hand,  passionately  loved  music  —  as 
passionately  as  he  loved  strong  drink.  And 
when  his  soul  clamored  for  expression,  it  usu 
ally  uttered  itself  in  one  or  the  other  of  the 
two  ways,  and  more  usually  in  both  ways. 
And  when  he  had  drunk,  his  brain  a-lilt  with 
unsung  song  and  the  devil  in  him  aroused  and 
rampant,  his  soul  found  its  supreme  utterance 
in  torturing  Batard. 

"  Now  we  will  haf  a  leetle  museek," 
he  would  say.  "  Eh  ?  Wat  you  t'ink, 
Batard?" 

It  was  only  an  old  and  battered  harmonica, 
tenderly  treasured  and  patiently  repaired ;  but 
it  was  the  best  that  money  could  buy,  and  out 
of  its  silver  reeds  he  drew  weird  vagrant  airs 
that  men  had  never  heard  before.  Then 
Batard,  dumb  of  throat,  with  teeth  tight 
clenched,  would  back  away,  inch  by  inch,  to 


BATARD  219 

the  farthest  cabin  corner.  And  Leclere,  play 
ing,  playing,  a  stout  club  tucked  under  his 
arm,  followed  the  animal  up,  inch  by  inch, 
step  by  step,  till  there  was  no  further  retreat. 
At  first  Batard  would  crowd  himself  into 
the  smallest  possible  space,  grovelling  close  to 
the  floor;  but  as  the  music  came  nearer  and 
nearer,  he  was  forced  to  uprear,  his  back 
jammed  into  the  logs,  his  fore  legs  fanning  the 
air  as  though  to  beat  off  the  rippling  waves  of 
sound.  He  still  kept  his  teeth  together,  but 
severe  muscular  contractions  attacked  his  body, 
strange  twitchings  and  jerkings,  till  he  was  all 
a-quiver  and  writhing  in  silent  torment.  As  he 
lost  control,  his  jaws  spasmodically  wrenched 
apart,  and  deep  throaty  vibrations  issued  forth, 
too  low  in  the  register  of  sound  for  human  ear 
to  catch.  And  then,  nostrils  distended,  eyes 
dilated,  hair  bristling  in  helpless  rage,  arose 
the  long  wolf  howl.  It  came  with  a  slurring 
rush  upward,  swelling  to  a  great  heart-break 
ing  burst  of  sound,  and  dying  away  in  sadly 
cadenced  woe  —  then  the  next  rush  upward, 
octave  upon  octave ;  the  bursting  heart ;  and 


220  BATARD 

the  infinite  sorrow  and  misery,  fainting,  fading, 
falling,  and  dying  slowly  away. 

It  was  fit  for  heil.  And  Leclere,  with  fiend 
ish  ken,  seemed  to  divine  each  particular  nerve 
and  heartstring,  aiid  with  long  wails  and  trem 
blings  and  sobbing  minors  to  make  it  yield  up 
its  last  shred  of  grief.  It  was  frightful,  and 
for  twenty- four  hours  after,  Batard  was  nervous 
and  unstrung,  starting  at  common  sounds,  trip 
ping  over  his  own  shadow,  but,  withal,  vicious 
and  masterful  with  his  team-mates.  Nor  did 
he  show  signs  of  a  breaking  spirit.  Rather 
did  he  grow  more  grim  and  taciturn,  biding 
his  time  with  an  inscrutable  patience  that 
began  to  puzzle  and  weigh  upon  Leclere. 
The  dog  would  lie  in  the  firelight,  motionless, 
for  hours,  gazing  straight  before  him  at  Leciere, 
and  hating  him  with  his  bitter  eyes. 

Often  the  man  felt  that  he  had  bucked 
against  the  very  essence  of  life  —  the  uncon 
querable  essence  that  swept  the  hawk  down 
out  of  the  sky  like  a  feathered  thunderbolt, 
that  drove  the  great  gray  goose  across  the 
zones,  that  hurled  the  spawning  salmon 


BATARD  221 

through  two  thousand  miles  of  boiling  Yukon 
flood.  At  such  times  he  felt  impelled  to  ex 
press  his  own  unconquerable  essence ;  and 
with  strong  drink,  wild  music,  and  Batard,  he 
indulged  in  vast  orgies,  wherein  he  pitted  his 
puny  strength  in  the  face  of  things,  and  chal 
lenged  all  that  was,  and  had  been,  and  was  yet 
to  be. 

"  Dere  is  somet'ing  dere,"  he  affirmed,  when 
the  rhythmed  vagaries  of  his  mind  touched 
the  secret  chords  of  Batard's  being  and  brought 
forth  the  long  lugubrious  howl.  "  Ah  pool 
eet  out  wid  bot'  my  han's,  so,  an*  so.  Ha ! 
Ha  !  Eet  is  fonee  !  Eet  is  ver'  fonee  !  De 
priest  chant,  de  womans  pray,  de  mans  swear, 
de  ieetle  bird  go  peep-peep,  Batard,  heem  go 
yow-yow  —  an*  eet  is  all  de  ver'  same  t'ing. 
Ha!  Ha!" 

Father  Gautier,  a  worthy  priest,  once  re 
proved  him  with  instances  of  concrete  perdi 
tion.  He  never  reproved  him  again. 

"  Eet  may  be  so,  mon  perey"  he  made  answer. 
"  An*  Ah  t'ink  Ah  go  troo  hell  a-snappin',  lak 
de  hemlock  troo  de  fire.  Eh,  mon  -pere?  " 


222  BATARD 

But  all  bad  things  come  to  an  end  as  well 
as  good,  and  so  with  Black  Leclere.  On 
the  summer  low  water,  in  a  poling  boat, 
he  left  McDougall  for  Sunrise.  He  left 
McDougall  in  company  with  Timothy 
Brown,  and  arrived  at  Sunrise  by  himself. 
Further,  it  was  known  that  they  had  quar 
relled  just  previous  to  pulling  out;  for  the 
Lizzie,  a  wheezy  ten-ton  sternwheeler,  twenty- 
four  hours  behind,  beat  Leclere  in  by  three 
days.  And  when  he  did  get  in,  it  was  with  a 
clean-drilled  bullet-hole  through  his  shoulder 
muscle,  and  a  tale  of  ambush  and  murder. 

A  strike  had  been  made  at  Sunrise,  and 
things  had  changed  considerably.  With  the 
infusion  of  several  hundred  gold-seekers,  a  deal 
of  whiskey,  and  half  a  dozen  equipped  gam 
blers,  the  missionary  had  seen  the  page  of 
his  years  of  labor  with  the  Indians  wiped 
clean.  When  the  squaws  became  preoccu 
pied  with  cooking  beans  and  keeping  the  fire 
going  for  the  wifeless  miners,  and  the  bucks 
with  swapping  their  warm  furs  for  black  bot 
tles  and  broken  timepieces,  he  took  to  his  bed, 


BATARD  223, 

said  "  bless  me  "  several  times,  and  departed 
to  his  final  accounting  in  a  rough-hewn,  oblong 
box.  Whereupon  the  gamblers  moved  their 
roulette  and  faro  tables  into  the  mission  house, 
and  the  click  of  chips  and  clink  of  glasses 
went  up  from  dawn  till  dark  and  to  dawn 
again. 

Now  Timothy  Brown  was  well  beloved 
among  these  adventurers  of  the  north.  The 
one  thing  against  him  was  his  quick  temper 
and  ready  fist,  —  a  little  thing,  for  which  his 
kind  heart  and  forgiving  hand  more  than 
atoned.  On  the  other  hand,  there  was  noth 
ing  to  atone  for  Black  Leclere.  He  was 
"  black,"  as  more  than  one  remembered  deed 
bore  witness,  while  he  was  as  well  hated  as 
the  other  was  beloved.  So  the  men  of  Sun 
rise  put  an  antiseptic  dressing  on  his  shoulder 
and  haled  him  before  Judge  Lynch. 

It  was  a  simple  affair.  He  had  quarrelled 
with  Timothy  Brown  at  McDougall.  With 
Timothy  Brown  he  had  left  McDougall. 
Without  Timothy  Brown  he  had  arrived  at 
Sunrise.  Considered  in  the  light  of  his  evil- 


224  BATARD 

ness,  the  unanimous  conclusion  was  that  he 
had  killed  Timothy  Brown.  On  the  other 
hand,  Leclere  acknowledged  their  facts,  but 
challenged  their  conclusion,  and  gave  his  own 
explanation.  Twenty  miles  out  of  Sunrise 
he  and  Timothy  Brown  were  poling  the  boat 
along  the  rocky  shore.  From  that  shore  two 
rifle-shots  rang  out.  Timothy  Brown  pitched 
out  of  the  boat  and  went  down  bubbling  red, 
and  that  was  the  last  of  Timothy  Brown. 
He,  Leclere,  pitched  into  the  bottom  of  the 
boat  with  a  stinging  shoulder.  He  lay  very 
quiet,  peeping  at  the  shore.  After  a  time 
two  Indians  stuck  up  their  heads  and  came 
out  to  the  water's  edge,  carrying  between  them 
a  birch-bark  canoe.  As  they  launched  it, 
Leclere  let  fly.  He  potted  one,  who  went 
over  the  side  after  the  manner  of  Timothy 
Brown.  The  other  dropped  into  the  bottom 
of  the  canoe,  and  then  canoe  and  poling  boat 
went  down  the  stream  in  a  drifting  battle. 
After  that  they  hung  up  on  a  split  current, 
and  the  canoe  passed  on  one  side  of  an  island, 
the  poling  boat  on  the  other.  That  was  the 


BATARD  225 

last  of  the  canoe,  and  he  came  on  into  Sun 
rise.  Yes,  from  the  way  the  Indian  in  the 
canoe  jumped,  he  was  sure  he  had  potted 
him.  That  was  all. 

This  explanation  was  not  deemed  adequate. 
They  gave  him  ten  hours'  grace  while  the 
Lizzie  steamed  down  to  investigate.  Ten 
hours  later  she  came  wheezing  back  to  Sun 
rise.  There  had  been  nothing  to  investigate. 
No  evidence  had  been  found  to  back  up  his 
statements.  They  told  him  to  make  his  will, 
for  he  possessed  a  fifty-thousand-dollar  Sun 
rise  claim,  and  they  were  a  law-abiding  as 
well  as  a  law-giving  breed. 

Leclere  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  Bot  one 
t'ing,"  he  said ;  "  a  leetle,  w'at  you  call,  favor 
—  a  leetle  favor,  dat  is  eet.  I  gif  my  feefty 
t'ousan'  dollair  to  de  church.  I  gif  my  husky 
dog,  Batard,  to  de  devil.  De  leetle  favor? 
Firs'  you  hang  heem,  an*  den  you  hang  me. 
Eet  is  good,  eh  ?  " 

Good  it  was,  they  agreed,  that  Hell's  Spawn 
should  break  trail  for  his  master  across  the 
last  divide,  and  the  court  was  adjourned  down 
Q 


226  BATARD 

to  the  river  bank,  where  a  big  spruce  tree  stood 
by  itself.  Slackwater  Charley  put  a  hangman's 
knot  in  the  end  of  a  hauling-line,  and  the  noose 
was  slipped  over  Leclere's  head  and  pulled 
tight  around  his  neck.  His  hands  were  tied 
behind  his  back,  and  he  was  assisted  to  the  top 
of  a  cracker  box.  Then  the  running  end  of 
the  line  was  passed  over  an  overhanging 
branch,  drawn  taut,  and  made  fast.  To  kick 
the  box  out  from  under  would  leave  him  danc 
ing  on  the  air. 

"  Now  for  the  dog,"  said  Webster  Shaw, 
sometime  mining  engineer.  "You'll  have  to 
rope  him,  Slackwater." 

Leclere  grinned.  Slackwater  took  a  chew  of 
tobacco,  rove  a  running  noose,  and  proceeded 
leisurely  to  coil  a  few  turns  in  his  hand.  He 
paused  once  or  twice  to  brush  particularly 
offensive  mosquitoes  from  off  his  face.  Every 
body  was  brushing  mosquitoes,  except  Leclere, 
about  whose  head  a  small  cloud  was  visible. 
Even  Batard,  lying  full-stretched  on  the 
ground,  with  his  fore  paws  rubbed  the  pests 
away  from  eyes  and  mouth. 


BATARD  227 

But  while  Slackwater  waited  for  Batard  to 
lift  his  head,  a  faint  call  came  down  the  quiet 
air,  and  a  man  was  seen  waving  his  arms  and 
running  across  the  flat  from  Sunrise.  It  was 
the  storekeeper. 

"C-call  'er  off,  boys/'  he  panted,  as  he  came 
in  among  them. 

"  Little  Sandy  and  Bernadotte's  jes'  got  in," 
he  explained  with  returning  breath.  "  Landed 
down  below  an*  come  up  by  the  short  cut. 
Got  the  Beaver  with  'm.  Picked  'm  up  in  his 
canoe,  stuck  in  a  back  channel,  with  a  couple 
of  bullet  holes  in  'm.  Other  buck  was  Klok- 
Kutz,  the  one  that  knocked  spots  out  of  his 
squaw  and  dusted." 

"  Eh  ?  Wat  Ah  say  ?  Eh  ? "  Leclere  cried 
exultantly.  "  Dat  de  one  fo'  sure  !  Ah  know. 
Ah  spik  true." 

"  The  thing  to  do  is  teach  these  damned 
Siwashes  a  little  manners,"  spoke  Webster 
Shaw.  "They're  getting  fat  and  sassy,  and 
we'll  have  to  bring  them  down  a  peg.  Round 
in  all  the  bucks  and  string  up  the  Beaver  for 
an  object  lesson.  That's  the  programme. 


228  BATARD 

Come  on  and  let's  see  what  he's  got  to  say  for 

himself.'' 

"  Heh,  M'sieu'  ! "  Leclere  called,  as  the 
crowd  began  to  melt  away  through  the  twilight 
in  the  direction  of  Sunrise.  "  Ah  lak  ver' 
moch  to  see  de  fon." 

"  Oh,  we'll  turn  you  loose  when  we  come 
back,"  Webster  Shaw  shouted  over  his 
shoulder.  "In  the  meantime  meditate  on 
your  sins  and  the  ways  of  providence.  It  will 
do  you  good,  so  be  grateful." 

As  is  the  way  with  men  who  are  accustomed 
to  great  hazards,  whose  nerves  are  healthy  and 
trained  to  patience,  so  it  was  with  Leclere,  who 
settled  himself  to  the  long  wait  —  which  is  to 
say  that  he  reconciled  his  mind  to  it.  There 
was  no  settling  of  the  body,  for  the  taut  rope 
forced  him  to  stand  rigidly  erect.  The  least 
relaxation  of  the  leg  muscles  pressed  the  rough- 
fibred  noose  into  his  neck,  while  the  upright 
position  caused  him  much  pain  in  his  wounded 
shoulder.  He  projected  his  under  lip  and 
expelled  his  breath  upward  along  his  face  to 
blow  the  mosquitoes  away  from  his  eyes.  But 


BATARD  229 

the  situation  had  its  compensation.  To  be 
snatched  from  the  maw  of  death  was  well 
worth  a  little  bodily  suffering,  only  it  was 
unfortunate  that  he  should  miss  the  hanging 
of  the  Beaver. 

And  so  he  mused,  till  his  eyes  chanced  to 
fall  upon  Batard,  head  between  fore  paws  and 
stretched  on  the  ground  asleep.  And  then 
Leclere  ceased  to  muse.  He  studied  the  ani 
mal  closely,  striving  to  sense  if  the  sleep  were 
real  or  feigned.  Batard' s  sides  were  heaving 
regularly,  but  Leclere  felt  that  the  breath  came 
and  went  a  shade  too  quickly ;  also  he  felt 
that  there  was  a  vigilance  or  alertness  to  every 
hair  that  belied  unshackling  sleep.  He 
would  have  given  his  Sunrise  claim  to  be 
assured  that  the  dog  was  not  awake,  and  once, 
when  one  of  his  joints  cracked,  he  looked 
quickly  and  guiltily  at  Batard  to  see  if  he  roused. 
He  did  not  rouse  then,  but  a  few  minutes 
later  he  got  up  slowly  and  lazily,  stretched, 
and  looked  carefully  about  him. 

"  S acre  dam"  said  Leclere,  under  his  breath. 

Assured  that  no  one  was  in  sight  or  hearing, 


230  BATARD 

Batard  sat  down,  curled  his  upper  lip  almost 
into  a  smile,  looked  up  at  Leclere,  and  licked 
his  chops. 

"  Ah  see  my  feenish,"  the  man  said,  and 
laughed  sardonically  aloud. 

Batard  came  nearer,  the  useless  ear  wabbling, 
the  good  ear  cocked  forward  with  devilish 
comprehension.  He  thrust  his  head  on  one 
side  quizzically,  and  advanced  with  mincing, 
playful  steps.  He  rubbed  his  body  gently 
against  the  box  till  it  shook  and  shook  again. 
Leclere  teetered  carefully  to  maintain  his 
equilibrium. 

"  Batard,"  he  said  calmly,  "  look  out.  Ah 
keel  you." 

Batard  snarled  at  the  word,  and  shook  the 
box  with  greater  force.  Then  he  upreared, 
and  with  his  fore  paws  threw  his  weight  against 
it  higher  up.  Leclere  kicked  out  with  one  foot, 
but  the  rope  bit  into  his  neck  and  checked  so 
abruptly  as  nearly  to  overbalance  him. 

"  Hi,  ya !     Chook  I    Mush-on  !  "  he  screamed. 

Batard  retreated,  for  twenty  feet  or  so,  with 
a  fiendish  levity  in  his  bearing  that  Leclere 


BATARD  231 

could  not  mistake.  He  remembered  the  dog 
often  breaking  the  scum  of  ice  on  the  water 
hole,  by  lifting  up  and  throwing  his  weight 
upon  it ;  and,  remembering,  he  understood 
what  he  now  had  in  mind.  Batard  faced 
about  and  paused.  He  showed  his  white 
teeth  in  a  grin,  which  Leclere  answered ;  and 
then  hurled  his  body  through  the  air,  in  full 
charge,  straight  for  the  box. 

Fifteen  minutes  later,  Slackwater  Charley 
and  Webster  Shaw,  returning,  caught  a  glimpse 
of  a  ghostly  pendulum  swinging  back  and 
forth  in  the  dim  light.  As  they  hurriedly 
drew  in  closer,  they  made  out  the  man's  inert 
body,  and  a  live  thing  that  clung  to  it,  and 
shook  and  worried,  and  gave  to  it  the  sway 
ing  motion. 

"Hi,  ya!  Chook!  you  Spawn  of  Hell," 
yelled  Webster  Shaw. 

But  Batard  glared  at  him,  and  snarled 
threateningly,  without  loosing  his  jaws. 

Slackwater  Charley  got  out  his  revolver, 
but  his  hand  was  shaking,  as  with  a  chill,  and 
he  fumbled. 


232  BATARD 

"Here,  you  take  it,"  he  said,  passing  tne 
weapon  over. 

Webster  Shaw  laughed  shortly,  drew  a 
sight  between  the  gleaming  eyes,  and  pressed 
the  trigger.  Batard's  body  twitched  with  the 
shock,  threshed  the  ground  spasmodically  for 
a  moment,  and  went  suddenly  limp.  But  his 
teeth  still  held  fast  locked. 


THE   STORY    OF   JEES    UCK 


THE    STORY    OF   JEES    UCK1 

THERE  have  been  renunciations,  and 
renunciations.  But,  in  its  essence, 
renunciation  is  ever  the  same.  And 
the  paradox  of  it  is  that  men  and  women 
forego  the  dearest  thing  in  the  world  for  some 
thing  dearer.  It  was  never  otherwise.  Thus 
it  was  when  Abel  brought  of  the  firstlings  of 
his  flock  and  of  the  fat  thereof.  The  firstlings 
and  the  fat  thereof  were  to  him  the  dearest 
things  in  the  world  ;  yet  he  gave  them  over 
that  he  might  be  on  good  terms  with  God. 
So  it  was  with  Abraham  when  he  prepared 
to  offer  up  his  son  Isaac  on  a  stone.  Isaac 
was  very  dear  to  him ;  but  God,  in  incom 
prehensible  ways,  was  yet  dearer.  It  may  be 
that  Abraham  feared  the  Lord.  But  whether 
that  be  true  or  not,  it  has  since  been  deter 
mined  by  a  few  billion  people  that  he  loved 
the  Lord  and  desired  to  serve  Him. 

1  Copyright,  1903,  by  Smart  Set  Publishing  Company. 
235 


236        THE   STORY   OF   JEES   UCK 

And  since  it  has  been  determined  that  love 
is  service,  and  since  to  renounce  is  to  serve, 
then  Jees  Uck,  who  was  merely  a  woman  of 
a  swart-skinned  breed,  loved  with  a  great  love. 
She  was  unversed  in  history,  having  learned 
to  read  only  the  signs  of  weather  and  of  game ; 
so  she  had  never  heard  of  Abel,  nor  of  Abra 
ham  ;  nor,  having  escaped  the  good  sisters  at 
Holy  Cross,  had  she  been  told  the  story  of 
Ruth,  the  Moabitess,  who  renounced  her  very 
God  for  the  sake  of  a  stranger  woman  from 
a  strange  land.  Jees  Uck  had  learned  only 
one  way  of  renouncing,  and  that  was  with  a 
club  as  the  dynamic  factor,  in  much  the  same 
manner  as  a  dog  is  made  to  renounce  a  stolen 
marrow-bone.  Yet,  when  the  time  came,  she 
proved  herself  capable  of  rising  to  the  height 
of  the  fair-faced  royal  races  and  of  renouncing 
in  right  regal  fashion. 

So  this  is  the  story  of  Jees  Uck,  which  is 
also  the  story  of  Neil  Bonner,  and  Kitty 
Bonner,  and  a  couple  of  Neil  Bonner's 
progeny.  Jees  Uck  was  of  a  swart-skinned 
breed,  it  is  true,  but  she  was  not  an  Indian  ; 


THE   STORY   OF   JEES    UCK        237 

nor  was  she  an  Eskimo  ;  nor  even  an  Innuit. 
Going  backward  into  mouth  tradition,  there 
appears  the  figure  of  one  Skolkz,  a  Toyaat 
Indian  of  the  Yukon,  who  journeyed  down 
in  his  youth  to  the  Great  Delta  where  dwell 
the  Innuits,  and  where  he  forgathered  with  a 
woman  remembered  as  Olillie.  Now  the 
woman  Olillie  had  been  bred  from  an  Eskimo- 
mother  by  an  Innuit  man.  And  from  Skolkz 
and  Olillie  came  Halie,  who  was  one-half 
Toyaat  Indian,  one-quarter  Innuit,  and  one- 
quarter  Eskimo.  And  Halie  was  the  grand 
mother  of  Jees  Uck. 

Now  Halie,  in  whom  three  stocks  had  been 
bastardized,  who  cherished  no  prejudice  against 
further  admixture,  mated  with  a  Russian  fur 
trader  called  Shpack,  also  known  in  his  time 
as  the  Big  Fat.  Shpack  is  herein  classed 
Russian  for  lack  of  a  more  adequate  term ;  for 
Shpack's  father,  a  Slavonic  convict  frcm  the 
Lower  Provinces,  had  escaped  from  the  quick 
silver  mines  into  Northern  Siberia,  where 
he  knew  Zimba,  who  was  a  woman  of  the 
Deer  People  and  who  became  the  mother  of 


238        THE   STORY   OF   JEES    UCK 

Shpack,  who  became  the  grandfather  of  Jees 
Uck. 

Now  had  not  Shpack  been  captured  in  his 
boyhood  by  the  Sea  People,  who  fringe  the 
rim  of  the  Arctic  Sea  with  their  misery,  he 
would  not  have  become  the  grandfather  of 
Jees  Uck  and  there  would  be  no  story  at  all. 
But  he  was  captured  by  the  Sea  People,  from 
whom  he  escaped  to  Kamchatka,  and  thence, 
on  a  Norwegian  whale-ship,  to  the  Baltic. 
Not  long  after  that  he  turned  up  in  St. 
Petersburg,  and  the  years  were  not  many  till 
he  went  drifting  east  over  the  same  weary 
road  his  father  had  measured  with  blood  and 
groans  a  half-century  before.  But  Shpack 
was  a  free  man,  in  the  employ  of  the  great 
Russian  Fur  Company.  And  in  that  employ 
he  fared  farther  and  farther  east,  until  he 
crossed  Bering  Sea  into  Russian  America ; 
and  at  Pastolik,  which  is  hard  by  the  Great 
Delta  of  the  Yukon,  became  the  husband 
of  Halie,  who  was  the  grandmother  of  Jees 
Uck.  Out  of  this  union  came  the  woman- 
child,  Tukesan. 


THE   STORY   OF   JEES    UCK        239 

Shpack,  under  the  orders  of  the  company, 
made  a  canoe  voyage  of  a  few  hundred  miles 
up  the  Yukon  to  the  post  of  Nulato.  With 
him  he  took  Halie  and  the  babe  Tukesan. 
This  was  in  1850,  and  in  1850  it  was  that 
the  river  Indians  fell  upon  Nulato  and  wiped 
it  from  the  face  of  the  earth.  And  that  was 
the  end  of  Shpack  and  Halie.  On  that  terri 
ble  night  Tukesan  disappeared.  To  this  day 
the  Toyaats  aver  they  had  no  hand  in  the 
trouble ;  but,  be  that  as  it  may,  the  fact  re 
mains  that  the  babe  Tukesan  grew  up  among 
them. 

Tukesan  was  married  successively  to  two 
Toyaat  brothers,  to  both  of  whom  she  was 
barren.  Because  of  this,  other  women  shook 
their  heads,  and  no  third  Toyaat  man  could 
be  found  to  dare  matrimony  with  the  child 
less  widow.  But  at  this  time,  many  hundred 
miles  above,  at  Fort  Yukon,  was  a  man,  Spike 
O'Brien.  Fort  Yukon  was  a  Hudson  Bay 
Company  post,  and  Spike  O'Brien  one  of  the 
company's  servants.  He  was  a  good  servant, 
but  he  achieved  an  opinion  that  the  service 


240        THE   STORY   OF   JEES    UCK 

was  bad,  and  in  the  course  of  time  vindicated 
that  opinion  by  deserting.  It  was  a  year's 
journey,  by  the  chain  of  posts,  back  to  York 
Factory  on  Hudson's  Bay.  Further,  being 
company  posts,  he  knew  he  could  not  evade 
the  company's  clutches.  Nothing  remained 
but  to  go  down  the  Yukon.  It  was  true  no 
white  man  had  ever  gone  down  the  Yukon, 
and  no  white  man  knew  whether  the  Yukon 
emptied  into  the  Arctic  Ocean  or  Bering  Sea  ; 
but  Spike  O'Brien  was  a  Celt,  and  the  prom 
ise  of  danger  was  a  lure  he  had  ever  followed. 
A  few  weeks  later,  somewhat  battered, 
rather  famished,  and  about  dead  with  river- 
fever,  he  drove  the  nose  of  his  canoe  into 
the  earth  bank  by  the  village  of  the  Toyaats 
and  promptly  fainted  away.  While  getting 
his  strength  back,  in  the  weeks  that  followed, 
he  looked  upon  Tukesan  and  found  her  good. 
Like  the  father  of  Shpack,  who  lived  to  a 
ripe  old  age  among  the  Siberian  Deer  People, 
Spike  O'Brien  might  have  left  his  aged  bones 
with  the  Toyaats.  But  romance  gripped  his 
heart-strings  and  would  not  let  him  stay.  As 


THE   STORY    OF   JEES    UCK        241 

he  had  journeyed  from  York  Factory  to  Fort 
Yukon,  so,  first  among  men,  might  he  journey 
from  Fort  Yukon  to  the  sea  and  win  the  honor 
of  being  the  first  man  to  make  the  Northwest 
Passage  by  land.  So  he  departed  down  the 
river,  won  the  honor,  and  was  unannaled  and 
unsung.  In  after  years  he  ran  a  sailors*  board 
ing-house  in  San  Francisco,  where  he  became 
esteemed  a  most  remarkable  liar  by  virtue 
of  the  gospel  truths  he  told.  But  a  child 
was  born  to  Tukesan,  who  had  been  childless. 
And  this  child  was  Jees  Uck.  Her  lineage 
has  been  traced  at  length  to  show  that  she 
was  neither  Indian,  nor  Eskimo,  nor  Innuit, 
nor  much  of  anything  else ;  also  to  show 
what  waifs  of  the  generations  we  are,  all  of 
us,  and  the  strange  meanderings  of  the  seed 
from  which  we  spring. 

What  with  the  vagrant  blood  in  her  and 
the  heritage  compounded  of  many  races,  Jees 
Uck  developed  a  wonderful  young  beauty. 
Bizarre,  perhaps,  it  was,  and  Oriental  enough 
to  puzzle  any  passing  ethnologist.  A  lithe 
and  slender  grace  characterized  her.  Beyond 


242        THE   STORY   OF   JEES    UCK 

a  quickened  lilt  to  the  imagination,  the  con 
tribution  of  the  Celt  was  in  no  wise  apparent. 
It  might  possibly  have  put  the  warm  blood 
under  her  skin,  which  made  her  face  less  swart 
and  her  body  fairer ;  but  that,  in  turn,  might 
have  come  from  Shpack,  the  Big  Fat,  who 
inherited  the  color  of  his  Slavonic  father. 
And,  finally,  she  had  great,  blazing  black 
eyes  —  the  half-caste  eye,  round,  full-orbed, 
and  sensuous,  which  marks  the  collision  of 
the  dark  races  with  the  light.  Also,  the 
white  blood  in  her,  combined  with  her  knowl 
edge  that  it  was  in  her,  made  her,  in  a  way, 
ambitious.  Otherwise,  by  upbringing  and  in 
outlook  on  life,  she  was  wholly  and  utterly 
a  Toyaat  Indian. 

One  winter,  when  she  was  a  young  woman, 
Neil  Bonner  came  into  her  life.  But  he  came 
into  her  life,  as  he  had  come  into  the  coun 
try,  somewhat  reluctantly.  In  fact,  it  was  very 
much  against  his  will,  coming  into  the  country. 
Between  a  father  who  clipped  coupons  and  cul 
tivated  roses,  and  a  mother  who  loved  the  social 
round,  Neil  Bonner  had  gone  rather  wild.  He 


THE   STORY    OF   JEES    UCK        243 

was  not  vicious,  but  a  man  with  meat  in  his 
belly  and  without  work  in  the  world  has  to 
expend  his  energy  somehow,  and  Neil  Bonner 
was  such  a  man.  And  he  expended  his  energy 
in  such  fashion  and  to  such  extent  that  when 
the  inevitable  climax  came,  his  father,  Neil 
Bonner,  senior,  crawled  out  of  his  roses  in  a 
panic  and  looked  on  his  son  with  a  wondering 
eye.  Then  he  hied  himself  away  to  a  crony 
of  kindred  pursuits,  with  whom  he  was  wont 
to  confer  over  coupons  and  roses,  and  between 
the  two  the  destiny  of  young  Neil  Bonner  was 
made  manifest.  He  must  go  away,  on  pro 
bation,  to  live  down  his  harmless  follies  in 
order  that  he  might  live  up  to  their  own  ex 
cellent  standard. 

This  determined  upon,  and  young  Neil  a 
little  repentant  and  a  great  deal  ashamed,  the 
rest  was  easy.  The  cronies  were  heavy  stock 
holders  in  the  P.  C.  Company.  The  P.  C. 
Company  owned  fleets  of  river-steamers  and 
ocean-going  craft,  and,  in  addition  to  farming 
the  sea,  exploited  a  hundred  thousand  square 
miles  or  so  of  the  land  that,  on  the  maps 


244        THE   STORY   OF   JEES    UCK 

of  geographers,  usually  occupies  the  white 
spaces.  So  the  P.  C.  Company  sent  young 
Neil  Bonner  north,  where  the  white  spaces 
are,  to  do  its  work  and  to  learn  to  be  good 
like  his  father.  "  Five  years  of  simplicity, 
close  to  the  soil  and  far  from  temptation,  will 
make  a  man  of  him,"  said  old  Neil  Bonner, 
and  forthwith  crawled  back  among  his  roses. 
Young  Neil  set  his  jaw,  pitched  his  chin  at  the 
proper  angle,  and  went  to  work.  As  an  under 
ling  he  did  his  work  well  and  gained  the 
commendation  of  his  superiors.  Not  that  he 
delighted  in  the  work,  but  that  it  was  the  one 
thing  that  prevented  him  from  going  mad. 

The  first  year  he  wished  he  was  dead. 
The  second  year  he  cursed  God.  The  third 
year  he  was  divided  between  the  two  emotions, 
and  in  the  confusion  quarrelled  with  a  man  in 
authority.  Fie  had  the  best  of  the  quarrel, 
though  the  man  in  authority  had  the  last  word, 
—  a  word  that  sent  Neil  Bonner  into  an  exile 
that  made  his  old  billet  appear  as  paradise. 
But  he  went  without  a  whimper,  for  the  North 
had  succeeded  in  making  him  into  a  man. 


THE   STORY   OF   JEES   UCK        245 

Here  and  there,  on  the  white  spaces  on  the 
map,  little  circlets  like  the  letter  "  o  "  are  to  be 
found,  and,  appended  to  these  circlets,  on  one 
side  or  the  other,  are  names  such  as  "  Fort 
Hamilton,"  "Yanana  Station,"  "Twenty  Mile," 
thus  leading  one  to  imagine  that  the  white 
spaces  are  plentifully  besprinkled  with  towns 
and  villages.  But  it  is  a  vain  imagining. 
Twenty  Mile,  which  is  very  like  the  rest  of 
the  posts,  is  a  log  building  the  size  of  a  cornet- 
grocery  with  rooms  to  let  upstairs.  A  long- 
legged  cache  on  stilts  may  be  found  in  the 
back  yard ;  also  a  couple  of  outhouses.  The 
back  yard  is  unfenced,  and  extends  to  the 
sky-line  and  an  unascertainable  bit  beyond. 
There  are  no  other  houses  in  sight,  though  the 
Toyaats  sometimes  pitch  a  winter  camp  a  mile 
or  two  down  the  Yukon.  And  this  is  Twenty 
Mile,  one  tentacle  of  the  many-tentacied  P.  C. 
Company.  Here  the  agent,  with  an  assistant, 
barters  with  the  Indians  for  their  furs,  and 
does  an  erratic  trade  on  a  gold-dust  basis  with 
the  wandering  miners.  Here,  also,  the  agent 
and  his  assistant  yearn  all  winter  for  the  spring, 


246        THE   STORY   OF   JEES    UCK 

and  when  the  spring  comes,  camp  blasphe 
mously  on  the  roof  while  the  Yukon  washes 
out  the  establishment.  And  here,  also,  in  the 
fourth  year  of  his  sojourn  in  the  land,  came 
Neil  Bonner  to  take  charge. 

He  had  displaced  no  agent;  for  the  man 
that  previously  ran  the  post  had  made  away 
with  himself;  "  because  of  the  rigors  of  the 
place,"  said  the  assistant,  who  still  remained ; 
though  the  Toyaats,  by  their  fires,  had  another 
version.  The  assistant  was  a  shrunken-shoul 
dered,  hollow-chested  man,  with  a  cadaverous 
face  and  cavernous  cheeks  that  his  sparse 
black  beard  could  not  hide.  He  coughed 
much,  as  though  consumption  gripped  his 
lungs,  while  his  eyes  had  that  mad,  fevered 
light  common  to  consumptives  in  the  last 
stage.  Pentley  was  his  name,  —  Amos  Pent- 
ley, —  and  Bonner  did  not  like  him,  though  he 
felt  a  pity  for  the  forlorn  and  hopeless  devil. 
They  did  not  get  along  together,  these  two 
men  who,  of  all  men,  should  have  been  on 
good  terms  in  the  face  of  the  cold  and  silence 
and  darkness  of  the  long  winter. 


THE   STORY   OF   JEES    UCK        247 

In  the  end,  Bonner  concluded  that  Amos 
was  partly  demented,  and  left  him  alone,  doing 
all  the  work  himself  except  the  cooking.  Even 
then,  Amos  had  nothing  but  bitter  looks  and 
an  undisguised  hatred  for  him.  This  was  a 
great  loss  to  Bonner;  for  the  smiling  face  of 
one  of  his  own  kind,  the  cheery  word,  the 
sympathy  of  comradeship  shared  with  misfor 
tune —  these  things  meant  much;  and  the 
winter  was  yet  young  when  he  began  to  realize 
the  added  reasons,  with  such  an  assistant,  that 
the  previous  agent  had  found  to  impel  his  own 
hand  against  his  life. 

It  was  very  lonely  at  Twenty  Mile.  The 
bleak  vastness  stretched  away  on  every  side 
to  the  horizon.  The  snow,  which  was  really 
frost,  flung  its  mantle  over  the  land  and  buried 
everything  in  the  silence  of  death.  For  days 
it  was  clear  and  cold,  the  thermometer  steadily 
recording  forty  to  fifty  degrees  below  zero. 
Then  a  change  came  over  the  face  of  things. 
What  little  moisture  had  oozed  into  the  atmos 
phere  gathered  into  dull  gray,  formless  clouds  ; 
it  became  quite  warm,  the  thermometer  rising 


248        THE   STORY   OF   JEES    UCK 

to  twenty  below ;  and  the  moisture  fell  out  of 
the  sky  in  hard  frost-granules  that  hissed  like 
dry  sugar  or  driving  sand  when  kicked  under 
foot.  After  that  it  became  clear  and  cold 
again,  until  enough  moisture  had  gathered  to 
blanket  the  earth  from  the  cold  of  outer  space. 
That  was  all.  Nothing  happened.  No  storms, 
no  churning  waters  and  threshing  forests,  noth 
ing  but  the  machine-like  precipitation  of  ac 
cumulated  moisture.  Possibly  the  most  notable 
thing  that  occurred  through  the  weary  weeks 
was  the  gliding  of  the  temperature  up  to  the 
unprecedented  height  of  fifteen  below.  To 
atone  for  this,  outer  space  smote  the  earth 
with  its  cold  till  the  mercury  froze  and  the 
spirit  thermometer  remained  more  than  seventy 
below  for  a  fortnight,  when  it  burst.  There 
was  no  telling  how  much  colder  it  was  after 
that.  Another  occurrence,  monotonous  in  its 
regularity,  was  the  lengthening  of  the  nights, 
till  day  became  a  mere  blink  of  light  between 
the  darknesses. 

Neil  Bonner  was  a  social  animal.     The  very 
follies  for  which  he  was  doing  penance  had  been 


THE   STORY   OF   JEES    UCK        249 

bred  of  his  excessive  sociability.  And  here, 
in  the  fourth  year  of  his  exile,  he  found  him 
self  in  company  —  which  were  to  travesty  the 
word  —  with  a  morose  and  speechless  creature 
in  whose  sombre  eyes  smouldered  a  hatred 
as  bitter  as  it  was  unwarranted.  And  Bonner, 
to  whom  speech  and  fellowship  were  as  the 
breath  of  life,  went  about  as  a  ghost  might 
go,  tantalized  by  the  gregarious  revelries  of 
some  former  life.  In  the  day  his  lips  were 
compressed,  his  face  stern ;  but  in  the  night 
he  clenched  his  hands,  rolled  about  in  his 
blankets,  and  cried  aloud  like  a  little  child. 
And  he  would  remember  a  certain  man  in 
authority  and  curse  him  through  the  long 
hours.  Also,  he  cursed  God.  But  God 
understands.  He  cannot  find  it  in  His  heart 
to  blame  weak  mortals  who  blaspheme  in 
Alaska. 

And  here,  to  the  post  of  Twenty  Mile,  came 
Jees  Uck,  to  trade  for  flour  and  bacon,  and 
beads,  and  bright  scarlet  cloths  for  her  fancy 
work.  And  further,  and  unwittingly,  she  came 
to  the  post  of  Twenty  Mile  to  make  a  lonely 


250        THE   STORY    OF   JEES    UCK 

man  more  lonely,  make  him  reach  out  empty 
arms  in  his  sleep.  For  Neil  Bonner  was  only 
a  man.  When  she  first  came  into  the  store,  he 
looked  at  her  long,  as  a  thirsty  man  may  look 
at  a  flowing  well.  And  she,  with  the  heritage 
bequeathed  her  by  Spike  O'Brien,  imagined 
daringly  and  smiled  up  into  his  eyes,  not  as  the 
swart-skinned  peoples  should  smile  at  the 
royal  races,  but  as  a  woman  smiles  at  a  man. 
The  thing  was  inevitable ;  only,  he  did  not  see 
it,  and  fought  against  her  as  fiercely  and  pas 
sionately  as  he  was  drawn  toward  her.  And 
she  ?  She  was  Jees  Uck,  by  upbringing  wholly 
and  utterly  a  Toyaat  Indian  woman. 

She  came  often  to  the  post  to  trade.  And 
often  she  sat  by  the  big  wood  stove  and 
chatted  in  broken  English  with  Neil  Bonner. 
And  he  came  to  look  for  her  coming ;  and  on 
the  days  she  did  not  come  he  was  worried  and 
restless.  Sometimes  he  stopped  to  think,  and 
then  she  was  met  coldly,  with  a  reserve  that 
perplexed  and  piqued  her,  and  which,  she  was 
convinced,  was  not  sincere.  But  more  often  he 
did  not  dare  to  think,  and  then  all  went  well 


THE   STORY   OF  JEES   UCK        251 

and  there  were  smiles  and  laughter.  And 
Amos  Pentley,  gasping  like  a  stranded  catfish, 
his  hollow  cough  a-reek  with  the  grave,  looked 
upon  it  all  and  grinned.  He,  who  loved  life, 
could  not  live,  and  it  rankled  his  soul  that 
others  should  be  able  to  live.  Wherefore  he 
hated  Bonner,  who  was  so  very  much  alive  and 
into  whose  eyes  sprang  joy  at  the  sight  of  Jees 
Uck.  As  for  Amos,  the  very  thought  of  the 
girl  was  sufficient  to  send  his  blood  pounding 
up  into  a  hemorrhage. 

Jees  Uck,  whose  mind  was  simple,  who 
thought  elementally  and  was  unused  to  weigh 
ing  life  in  its  subtler  quantities,  read  Amos 
Pentley  like  a  book.  She  warned  Bonner, 
openly  and  bluntly,  in  few  words ;  but  the 
complexities  of  higher  existence  confused  the 
situation  to  him,  and  he  laughed  at  her  evident 
anxiety.  To  him,  Amos  was  a  poor,  miserable 
devil,  tottering  desperately  into  the  grave. 
And  Bonner,  who  had  suffered  much,  found  it 
easy  to  forgive  greatly. 

But  one  morning,  during  a  bitter  snap,  he 
got  up  from  the  breakfast  table  and  went  into 


252        THE   STORY   OF   JEES    UCK 

the  store.  Jees  Uck  was  already  there,  rosy 
from  the  trail,  to  buy  a  sack  of  flour.  A  few 
minutes  later,  he  was  out  in  the  snow  lashing 
the  flour  on  her  sled.  As  he  bent  over  he 
noticed  a  stiffness  in  his  neck  and  felt  a  pre 
monition  of  impending  physical  misfortune. 
And  as  he  put  the  last  half-hitch  into  the 
lashing  and  attempted  to  straighten  up,  a 
quick  spasm  seized  him  and  he  sank  into  the 
snow.  Tense  and  quivering,  head  jerked  back, 
limbs  extended,  back  arched  and  mouth  twisted 
and  distorted,  he  appeared  as  though  "being 
racked  limb  from  limb.  Without  cry  or 
sound,  Jees  Uck  was  in  the  snow  beside  him ; 
but  he  clutched  both  her  wrists  spasmodically, 
and  as  long  as  the  convulsion  endured  she  was 
helpless.  In  a  few  moments  the  spasm  relaxed 
and  he  was  left  weak  and  fainting,  his  forehead 
beaded  with  sweat,  his  lips  flecked  with  foam. 

"Quick!"  he  muttered,  in  a  strange,  hoarse 
voice.  "Quick!  Inside!" 

He  started  to  crawl  on  hands  and  knees, 
but  she  raised  him  up,  and,  supported  by  her 
young  arm,  he  made  faster  progress.  As  he 


THE   STORY   OF   JEES    UCK        253 

entered  the  store  the  spasm  seized  him  again, 
and  his  body  writhed  irresistibly  away  from 
her  and  rolled  and  curled  on  the  floor.  Amos 
Pentley  came  and  looked  on  with  curious  eyes. 

"  Oh,  Amos ! "  she  cried  in  an  agony  of 
apprehension  and  helplessness,  "  him  die,  you 
think  ?  "  But  Amos  shrugged  his  shoulders 
and  continued  to  look  on. 

Bonner's  body  went  slack,  the  tense  muscles 
easing  down  and  an  expression  of  relief  coming 
into  his  face.  "  Quick ! "  he  gritted  between 
his  teeth,  his  mouth  twisting  with  the  on-com 
ing  of  the  next  spasm  and  with  his  effort  to 
control  it.  "  Quick,  Jees  Uck !  The  medi 
cine  !  Never  mind  !  Drag  me !  " 

She  knew  where  the  medicine-chest  stood, 
at  the  rear  of  the  room,  beyond  the  stove,  and 
thither,  by  the  legs,  she  dragged  the  struggling 
man.  As  the  spasm  passed,  he  began,  very 
faint  and  very  sick,  to  overhaul  the  chest.  He 
had  seen  dogs  die  exhibiting  symptoms  similar 
to  his  own,  and  he  knew  what  should  be  done. 
He  held  up  a  vial  of  chloral  hydrate,  but  his 
fingers  were  too  weak  and  nerveless  to  draw 


254        THE   STORY   OF   JEES    UCK 

the  cork.  This  Jees  Uck  did  for  him,  while 
he  was  plunged  into  another  convulsion.  As 
he  came  out  of  it  he  found  the  open  bottle 
proffered  him  and  looked  into  the  great  black 
eyes  of  the  woman  and  read  what  men  have 
always  read  in  the  Mate-woman's  eyes.  Tak 
ing  a  full  dose  of  the  stuff,  he  sank  back  until 
another  spasm  had  passed.  Then  he  raised 
himself  limply  on  his  elbow. 

"  Listen,  Jees  Uck ! "  he  said  very  slowly, 
as  though  aware  of  the  necessity  for  haste  and 
yet  afraid  to  hasten.  "  Do  what  I  say.  Stay 
by  my  side,  but  do  not  touch  me.  I  must  be 
very  quiet,  but  you  must  not  go  away/'  His 
jaw  began  to  set  and  his  face  to  quiver  and  dis 
tort  with  the  forerunning  pangs,  but  he  gulped 
and  struggled  to  master  them.  "  Do  not  go 
away.  And  do  not  let  Amos  go  away. 
Understand  !  Amos  must  stay  right  here." 

She  nodded  her  head,  and  he  passed  off  into 
the  first  of  many  convulsions,  which  gradually 
diminished  in  force  and  frequency.  Jees  Uck 
hung  over  him,  remembering  his  injunction 
and  not  daring  to  touch  him.  Once  Amos 


THE   STORY    OF   JEES    UCK        255 

grew  restless  and  made  as  though  to  go  into 
the  kitchen ;  but  a  quick  blaze  from  her  eyes 
quelled  him,  and  after  that,  save  for  his  labored 
breathing  and  charnel  cough,  he  was  very 
quiet. 

Bonner  slept.  The  blink  of  light  that 
marked  the  day  disappeared.  Amos,  followed 
about  by  the  woman's  eyes,  lighted  the  kero 
sene  lamps.  Evening  came  on.  Through  the 
north  window  the  heavens  were  emblazoned 
with  an  auroral  display,  which  flamed  and  flared 
and  died  down  into  blackness.  Some  time 
after  that,  Neil  Bonner  roused.  First  he 
looked  to  see  that  Amos  was  still  there,  then 
smiled  at  Jees  Uck  and  pulled  himself  up. 
Every  muscle  was  stiff  and  sore,  and  he  smiled 
ruefully,  pressing  and  prodding  himself  as  if  to 
ascertain  the  extent  of  the  ravage.  Then  his 
face  went  stern  and  businesslike. 

"Jees  Uck,"  he  said,  "  take  a  candle.  Go 
into  the  kitchen.  There  is  food  on  the  table 
—  biscuits  and  beans  and  bacon;  also,  coffee 
in  the  pot  on  the  stove.  Bring  it  here  on  the 
counter.  Also,  bring  tumblers  and  water  and 


256        THE   STORY   OF  JEES   UCK 

whiskey,  which  you  will  find  on  the  top  shelf 
of  the  locker.  Do  not  forget  the  whiskey." 

Having  swallowed  a  stiff  glass  of  the  whis 
key,  he  went  carefully  through  the  medicine 
chest,  now  and  again  putting  aside,  with  definite 
purpose,  certain  bottles  and  vials.  Then  he 
set  to  work  on  the  food,  attempting  a  crude 
analysis.  He  had  not  been  unused  to  the 
laboratory  in  his  college  days  and  was  possessed 
of  sufficient  imagination  to  achieve  results  with 
his  limited  materials.  The  condition  of  tet 
anus,  which  had  marked  his  paroxysms,  simpli 
fied  matters,  and  he  made  but  one  test.  The 
coffee  yielded  nothing;  nor  did  the  beans. 
To  the  biscuits  he  devoted  the  utmost  care. 
Amos,  who  knew  nothing  of  chemistry,  looked 
on  with  steady  curiosity.  But  Jees  Uck,  who 
had  boundless  faith  in  the  white  man's  wisdom, 
and  especially  in  Neil  Bonner's  wisdom,  and 
who  not  only  knew  nothing  but  knew  that  she 
knew  nothing,  watched  his  face  rather  than 
his  hands. 

Step  by  step  he  eliminated  possibilities, 
until  he  came  to  the  final  test.  He  was  using 


THE   STORY   OF   JEES   UCK        257 

a  thin  medicine  vial  for  a  tube,  and  this  he 
held  between  him  and  the  light,  watching  the 
slow  precipitation  of  a  salt  through  the  solu 
tion  contained  in  the  tube.  He  said  nothing, 
but  he  saw  what  he  had  expected  to  see.  And 
Jees  Uck,  her  eyes  riveted  on  his  face,  saw 
something,  too,  —  something  that  made  her 
spring  like  a  tigress  upon  Amos  and  with 
splendid  suppleness  and  strength  bend  his 
body  back  across  her  knee.  Her  knife  was 
out  of  its  sheath  and  uplifted,  glinting  in  the 
lamplight.  Amos  was  snarling;  but  Bonner 
intervened  ere  the  blade  could  fall. 

"  That's  a  good  girl,  Jees  Uck.  But  never 
mind.  Let  him  go  !  " 

She  dropped  the  man  obediently,  though 
with  protest  writ  large  on  her  face ;  and  his 
body  thudded  to  the  floor.  Bonner  nudged 
him  with  his  moccasined  foot. 

"  Get  up,  Amos ! "  he  commanded.  "  You've 
got  to  pack  an  outfit  yet  to-night  and  hit  the 
trail." 

"You  don't  mean  to  say  — "  Amos  blurted 
savagely. 


258        THE    STORY    OF   JEES    UCK 

"  I  mean  to  say  that  you  tried  to  kill  me," 
Neil  went  on  in  cold,  even  tones.  cc  I  mean 
to  say  that  you  killed  Birdsall,  for  all  the 
company  believes  he  killed  himself.  You 
used  strychnine  in  my  case.  God  knows  with 
what  you  fixed  him.  Now  I  can't  hang  you. 
You're  too  near  dead,  as  it  is.  But  Twenty 
Mile  is  too  small  for  the  pair  of  us,  and  you've 
got  to  mush.  It's  two  hundred  miles  to  Holy 
Cross.  You  can  make  it  if  you're  careful  not 
to  overexert.  I'll  give  you  grub,  a  sled,  and 
three  dogs.  You'll  be  as  safe  as  if  you  were 
in  jail,  for  you  can't  get  out  of  the  country. 
And  I'll  give  you  one  chance.  You're  almost 
dead.  Very  well.  I  shall  send  no  word  to 
the  company  until  the  spring.  In  the  mean 
time,  the  thing  for  you  to  do  is  to  die.  Now, 
mush  !  " 

"You  go  to  bed!"  Jees  Uck  insisted,  when 
Amos  had  churned  away  into  the  night  toward 
Holy  Cross.  "  You  sick  man  yet,  Neil." 

"  And  you're  a  good  girl,  Jees  Uck,"  he 
answered.  "  And  here's  my  hand  on  it.  But 
you  must  go  home." 


THE   STORY    OF   JEES    UCK        259 

"  You  don't  like  me,"  she  said  simply. 

He  smiled,  helped  her  on  with  her  parka, 
and  led  her  to  the  door.  "  Only  too  well, 
Jees  Uck,"  he  said  softly ;  "  only  too  well." 

After  that  the  pall  of  the  Arctic  night  fell 
deeper  and  blacker  on  the  land.  Neil  Bonner 
discovered  that  he  had  failed  to  put  proper 
valuation  upon  even  the  sullen  face  of  the 
murderous  and  death-stricken  Amos.  It  be 
came  very  lonely  at  Twenty  Mile.  "  For 
the  love  of  God,  Prentiss,  send  me  a  man," 
he  wrote  to  the  agent  at  Fort  Hamilton, 
three  hundred  miles  up  river.  Six  weeks 
later  the  Indian  messenger  brought  back  a 
reply.  It  was  characteristic:  "Hell.  Both 
feet  frozen.  Need  him  myself —  Prentiss." 

To  make  matters  worse,  most  of  the  Toy- 
aats  were  in  the  back  country  on  the  flanks  of 
a  caribou  herd,  and  Jees  Uck  was  with  them. 
Removing  to  a  distance  seemed  to  bring  her 
closer  than  ever,  and  Neil  Bonner  found  him 
self  picturing  her,  day  by  day,  in  camp  and 
on  trail.  It  is  not  good  to  be  alone.  Often 
he  went  out  of  the  quiet  store,  bare-headed 


260        THE   STORY   OF   JEES    UCK 

and  frantic,  and  shook  his  fist  at  the  blink  of 
day  that  came  over  the  southern  sky-line. 
And  on  still,  cold  nights  he  left  his  bed  and 
stumbled  into  the  frost,  where  he  assaulted  the 
silence  at  the  top  of  his  lungs,  as  though  it 
were  some  tangible,  sentient  thing  that  he 
might  arouse ;  or  he  shouted  at  the  sleeping 
dogs  till  they  howled  and  howled  again.  One 
shaggy  brute  he  brought  into  the  post,  playing 
that  it  was  the  new  man  sent  by  Prentiss.  He 
strove  to  make  it  sleep  decently  under  blankets 
at  night  and  to  sit  at  table  and  eat  as  a  man 
should ;  but  the  beast,  mere  domesticated  wolf 
that  it  was,  rebelled,  and  sought  out  dark  cor 
ners  and  snarled  and  bit  him  in  the  leg,  and 
was  finally  beaten  and  driven  forth. 

Then  the  trick  of  personification  seized 
upon  Neil  Bonner  and  mastered  him.  All  the 
forces  of  his  environment  metamorphosed  into 
living,  breathing  entities  and  came  to  live  with 
him.  He  re-created  the  primitive  pantheon ; 
reared  an  altar  to  the  sun  and  burned  candle 
fat  and  bacon  grease  thereon ;  and  in  the  un- 
fenced  yard,  by  the  long-legged  cache,  made  a 


THE   STORY   OF   JEES    UCK        261 

frost  devil,  which  he  was  wont  to  make  faces 
at  and  mock  when  the  mercury  oozed  down 
into  the  bulb.  All  this  in  play,  of  course. 
He  said  it  to  himself  that  it  was  in  play,  and 
repeated  it  over  and  over  to  make  sure,  un 
aware  that  madness  is  ever  prone  to  express 
itself  in  make-believe  and  play. 

One  midwinter  day,  Father  Champreau,  a 
Jesuit  missionary,  pulled  into  Twenty  Mile. 
Bonner  fell  upon  him  and  dragged  him  into 
the  post,  and  clung  to  him  and  wept,  until 
the  priest  wept  with  him  from  sheer  compas 
sion.  Then  Bonner  became  madly  hilarious 
and  made  lavish  entertainment,  swearing  val 
iantly  that  his  guest  should  not  depart.  But 
Father  Champreau  was  pressing  to  Salt  Water 
on  urgent  business  for  his  order,  and  pulled 
out  next  morning,  with  Bonner's  blood  threat 
ened  on  his  head. 

And  the  threat  was  in  a  fair  way  toward 
realization,  when  the  Toyaats  returned  from 
their  long  hunt  to  the  winter  camp.  They 
had  many  furs,  and  there  was  much  trading 
and  stir  at  Twenty  Mile.  Also,  Jees  Uck 


262        THE   STORY   OF   JEES    UCK 

came  to  buy  beads  and  scarlet  cloths  and 
things,  and  Bonner  began  to  find  himself 
again.  He  fought  for  a  week  against  her. 
Then  the  end  came  one  night  when  she  rose 
to  leave.  She  had  not  forgotten  her  repulse, 
and  the  pride  that  drove  Spike  O'Brien  on 
to  complete  the  Northwest  Passage  by  land 
was  her  pride. 

"I  go  now/'  she  said;  "good  night,  Neil." 

But  he  came  up  behind  her.  "  Nay,  it  is 
not  well,"  he  said. 

And  as  she  turned  her  face  toward  his  with 
a  sudden  joyful  flash,  he  bent  forward,  slowly 
and  gravely,  as  it  were  a  sacred  thing,  and 
kissed  her  on  the  lips.  The  Toyaats  had 
never  taught  her  the  meaning  of  a  kiss  upon 
the  lips,  but  she  understood  and  was  glad. 

With  the  coming  of  Jees  Uck,  at  once  things 
brightened  up.  She  was  regal  in  her  happi 
ness,  a  source  of  unending  delight.  The 
elemental  workings  of  her  mind  and  her  naive 
little  ways  made  an  immense  sum  of  pleasurable 
surprise  to  the  overcivilized  man  that  had 
stooped  to  catch  her  up.  Not  alone  was  she 


THE   STORY   OF   JEES    UCK        263 

solace  to  his  loneliness,  but  her  primitiveness 
rejuvenated  his  jaded  mind.  It  was  as  though, 
after  long  wandering,  he  had  returned  to  pil 
low  his  head  in  the  lap  of  Mother  Earth. 
In  short,  in  Jees  Uck  he  found  the  youth  of 
the  world  —  the  youth  and  the  strength  and 
the  joy. 

And  to  fill  the  full  round  of  his  need,  and 
that  they  might  not  see  overmuch  of  each 
other,  there  arrived  at  Twenty  Mile  one  Sandy 
MacPherson,  as  companionable  a  man  as  ever 
whistled  along  the  trail  or  raised  a  ballad  by  a 
camp-fire.  A  Jesuit  priest  had  run  into  his 
camp,  a  couple  of  hundred  miles  up  the  Yukon, 
in  the  nick  of  time  to  say  a  last  word  over  the 
body  of  Sandy's  partner.  And  on  departing, 
the  priest  had  said,  "  My  son,  you  will  be 
lonely  now."  And  Sandy  had  bowed  his 
head  brokenly.  "  At  Twenty  Mile,"  the 
priest  added,  "  there  is  a  lonely  man.  You 
have  need  of  each  other,  my  son." 

So  it  was  that  Sandy  became  a  welcome 
third  at  the  post,  brother  to  the  man  and 
woman  that  resided  there.  He  took  Bonner 


264        THE   STORY   OF   JEES   UCK 

moose-hunting  and  wolf-trapping;  and,  in  re 
turn,  Bonner  resurrected  a  battered  and  way- 
worn  volume  and  made  him  friends  with 
Shakespeare,  till  Sandy  declaimed  iambic  pen 
tameters  to  his  sled-dogs  whenever  they  waxed 
mutinous.  And  of  the  long  evenings  they 
played  cribbage  and  talked  and  disagreed  about 
the  universe,  the  while  Jees  Uck  rocked  ma 
tronly  in  an  easy-chair  and  darned  their  moc 
casins  and  socks. 

Spring  came.  The  sun  shot  up  out  of  the 
south.  The  land  exchanged  its  austere  robes 
for  the  garb  of  a  smiling  wanton.  Everywhere 
light  laughed  and  life  invited.  The  days 
stretched  out  their  balmy  length  and  the  nights 
passed  from  blinks  of  darkness  to  no  dark 
ness  at  all.  The  river  bared  its  bosom,  and 
snorting  steamboats  challenged  the  wilderness. 
There  were  stir  and  bustle,  new  faces,  and  fresh 
facts.  An  assistant  arrived  at  Twenty  Mile, 
and  Sandy  MacPherson  wandered  off  with  a 
bunch  of  prospectors  to  invade  the  Koyokuk 
country.  And  there  were  newspapers  and 
magazines  and  letters  for  Neil  Bonner.  And 


THE   STORY  OF  JEES   UCK        265 

Jees  Uck  looked  on  in  worriment,  for  she 
knew  his  kindred  talked  with  him  across  the 
world. 

Without  much  shock,  it  came  to  him  that 
his  father  was  dead.  There  was  a  sweet  let 
ter  of  forgiveness,  dictated  in  his  last  hours. 
There  were  official  letters  from  the  company, 
graciously  ordering  him  to  turn  the  post  over 
to  the  assistant  and  permitting  him  to  depart 
at  his  earliest  pleasure.  A  long,  legal  affair 
from  the  lawyers  informed  him  of  interminable 
lists  of  stocks  and  bonds,  real  estate,  rents,  and 
chattels  that  were  his  by  his  father's  will.  And 
a  dainty  bit  of  stationery,  sealed  and  mono- 
grammed,  implored  dear  Neil's  return  to  his 
heart-broken  and  loving  mother. 

Neil  Bonner  did  some  swift  thinking,  and 
when  the  Yukon  Belle  coughed  in  to  the  bank  on 
her  way  down  to  Bering  Sea,  he  departed  — 
departed  with  the  ancient  lie  of  quick  return 
young  and  blithe  on  his  lips. 

"  I'll  come  back,  dear  Jees  Uck,  before  the 
first  snow  flies,"  he  promised  her,  between 
the  last  kisses  -at  the  gang-plank. 


266        THE   STORY    OF   JEES    UCK 

And  not  only  did  he  promise,  but,  like  the 
majority  of  men  under  the  same  circumstances, 
he  really  meant  it.  To  John  Thompson,  the 
new  agent,  he  gave  orders  for  the  extension 
of  unlimited  credit  to  his  wife,  Jees  Uck. 
Also,  with  his  last  look  from  the  deck  of 
the  Yukon  Eelle^  he  saw  a  dozen  men  at  work 
rearing  the  logs  that  were  to  make  the  most 
comfortable  house  along  a  thousand  miles  of 
river  front  —  the  house  of  Jees  Uck,  and 
likewise  the  house  of  Neil  Bonner  —  ere  the 
first  flurry  of  snow.  For  he  fully  and  fondly 
meant  to  come  back.  Jees  Uck  was  dear  to 
him,  and,  further,  a  golden  future  awaited  the 
North,  With  his  father's  money  he  intended 
to  verify  that  future.  An  ambitious  dream 
allured  him.  With  his  four  years  of  experi 
ence,  and  aided  by  the  friendly  cooperation 
of  the  P.  C.  Company,  he  would  return  to 
become  the  Rhodes  of  Alaska.  And  he  would 
return,  fast  as  steam  could  drive,  as  soon  as 
he  had  put  into  shape  the  affairs  of  his  father, 
whom  he  had  never  known,  and  comforted 
his  mother,  whom  he  had  forgotten. 


THE   STORY    OF   JEES    UCK        267 

There  was  much  ado  when  Neil  Bonner 
came  back  from  the  Arctic.  The  fires  were 
lighted  and  the  fleshpots  slung,  and  he  took 
of  it  all  and  called  it  good.  Not  only  was 
he  bronzed  and  creased,  but  he  was  a  new 
man  under  his  skin,  with  a  grip  on  things 
and  a  seriousness  and  control.  His  old  com 
panions  were  amazed  when  he  declined  to 
hit  up  the  pace  in  the  good  old  way,  while 
his  father's  crony  rubbed  hands  gleefully,  and 
became  an  authority  upon  the  reclamation  of 
wayward  and  idle  youth. 

For  four  years  Neil  Bonner's  mind  had  lain 
fallow.  Little  that  was  new  had  been  added 
to  it,  but  it  had  undergone  a  process  of  selec 
tion.  It  had,  so  to  say,  been  purged  of  the 
trivial  and  superfluous.  He  had  lived  quick 
years,  down  in  the  world ;  and,  up  in  the 
wilds,  time  had  been  given  him  to  organize 
the  confused  mass  of  his  experiences.  His 
superficial  standards  had  been  flung  to  the 
winds  and  new  standards  erected  on  deeper  and 
broader  generalizations.  Concerning  civiliza 
tion,  he  had  gone  away  with  one  set  of  values, 


268        THE    STORY   OF   JEES    UCK 

had  returned  with  another  set  of  values. 
Aided,  also,  by  the  earth  smells  in  his  nostrils 
and  the  earth  sights  in  his  eyes,  he  laid  hold 
of  the  inner  significance  of  civilization,  be 
holding  with  clear  vision  its  futilities  and 
powers.  It  was  a  simple  little  philosophy 
he  evolved.  Clean  living  was  the  way  to 
grace.  Duty  performed  was  sanctification. 
One  must  live  clean  and  do  his  duty  in  order 
that  he  might  work.  Work  was  salvation. 
And  to  work  toward  life  abundant,  and  more 
abundant,  was  to  be  in  line  with  the  scheme 
of  things  and  the  will  of  God. 

Primarily,  he  was  of  the  city.  And  his 
fresh  earth  grip  and  virile  conception  of 
humanity  gave  him  a  finer  sense  of  civiliza 
tion  and  endeared  civilization  to  him.  Day 
by  day  the  people  of  the  city  clung  closer  t® 
him  and  the  world  loomed  more  colossal. 
And,  day  by  day,  Alaska  grew  more  remote 
and  less  real.  And  then  he  met  Kitty  Sharon 
—  a  woman  of  his  own  flesh  and  blood  and 
kind;  a  woman  who  put  her  hand  into  his 
hand  and  drew  him  to  her,  till  he  forgot  the 


THE  STORY  OF  JEES  UCK  269- 
day  and  hour  and  the  time  of  the  year  the 
first  snow  flies  on  the  Yukon. 

Jees  Uck  moved  into  her  grand  log-house 
and  dreamed  away  three  golden  summer 
months.  Then  came  the  autumn,  post-haste 
before  the  down  rush  of  winter.  The  air 
grew  thin  and  sharp,  the  days  thin  and 
short.  The  river  ran  sluggishly,  and  skin 
ice  formed  in  the  quiet  eddies.  All  migra 
tory  life  departed  south,  and  silence  fell  upon 
the  land.  The  first  snow  flurries  came,  and 
the  last  homing  steamboat  bucked  desper 
ately  into  the  running  mush  ice.  Then  came 
the  hard  ice,  solid  cakes  and  sheets,  till  the 
Yukon  ran  level  with  its  banks.  And 
when  all  this  ceased  the  river  stood  still 
and  the  blinking  days  lost  themselves  in  the 
darkness. 

John  Thompson,  the  new  agent,  laughed  ; 
but  Jees  Uck  had  faith  in  the  mischances  of 
sea  and  river.  Neil  Bonner  might  be  frozen 
in  anywhere  between  Chilkoot  Pass  and  St. 
Michael's,  for  the  last  travellers  of  the  year 
are  always  caught  by  the  ice,  when  they  ex- 


27o        THE   STORY   OF  JEES   UCK 

change  boat  for  sled  and  dash  on  through 
the  long  hours  behind  the  flying  dogs. 

But  no  flying  dogs  came  up  the  trail,  nor 
down  the  trail,  to  Twenty  Mile.  And  John 
Thompson  told  Jees  Uck,  with  a  certain  glad 
ness  ill  concealed,  that  Bonner  would  never  come 
back  again.  Also,  and  brutally,  he  suggested 
his  own  eligibility.  Jees  Uck  laughed  in  his 
face  and  went  back  to  her  grand  log-house. 
But  when  midwinter  came,  when  hope  dies 
-down  and  life  is  at  its  lowest  ebb,  Jees  Uck 
found  she  had  no  credit  at  the  store.  This 
was  Thompson's  doing,  and  he  rubbed  his 
hands,  and  walked  up  and  down,  and  came 
to  his  door  and  looked  up  at  Jees  Uck's 
house,  and  waited.  And  he  continued  to 
wait.  She  sold  her  dog-team  to  a  party  of 
miners  and  paid  cash  for  her  food.  And 
when  Thompson  refused  to  honor  even  her 
coin,  Toyaat  Indians  made  her  purchases,  and 
sledded  them  up  to  her  house  in  the  dark. 

In  February  the  first  post  came  in  over  the 
ice,  and  John  Thompson  read  in  the  society 
column  of  a  five  months'  old  paper  of  the 


THE   STORY    OF   JEES    UCK        271 

marriage  of  Neil  Bonner  and  Kitty  Sharon. 
Jees  Uck  held  the  door  ajar  and  him  outside 
while  he  imparted  the  information  ;  and,  when 
he  had  do^e,  laughed  pridefully  and  did  not 
believe.  In  March,  and  all  alone,  she  gave 
birth  to  a  mar-child,  a  brave  bit  of  new  life 
at  which  she  marvelled.  And  at  that  hour, 
a  year  later,  Neil  Bonner  sat  by  another  bed, 
marvelling  at  another  bit  of  new  life  that 
had  fared  into  the  world. 

The  snow  went  off  the  ground  and  the  ice 
broke  out  of  the  Yukon.  The  sun  journeyed 
north,  and  journeyed  south  again ;  and,  the 
money  from  the  dogs  being  spent,  Jees  Uck 
went  back  to  her  own  people.  Oche  Ish,  a 
shrewd  hunter,  proposed  to  kill  the  meat  for 
her  and  her  babe,  and  catch  the  salmon,  if 
she  would  marry  him.  And  Imego  and  Hah 
Yo  and  Wy  Nooch,  husky  young  hunters  all, 
made  similar  proposals.  But  she  elected  to- 
live  alone  and  seek  her  own  meat  and  fish. 
She  sewed  moccasins  and  parkas  and  mittens 
—  warm,  serviceable  things,  and  pleasing  to 
the  eye,  withal,  what  of  the  ornamental  hair- 


272        THE   STORY   OF   JEES   UCK 

tufts  and  bead  work.  These  she  sold  to  the 
miners,  who  were  drifting  faster  into  the  land 
each  year.  And  not  only  did  she  win  food 
that  was  good  and  plentiful,  bui.  she  laid 
money  by,  and  one  day  took  passage  on  the 
Tukon  Belle  down  the  river. 

At  St.  Michael's  she  washed  dishes  in  the 
kitchen  of  the  post.  The  servants  of  the  com 
pany  wondered  at  the  remarkable  woman  with 
the  remarkable  child,  though  they  asked  no 
questions  and  she  vouchsafed  nothing.  But 
just  before  Bering  Sea  closed  in  for  the  year, 
she  bought  a  passage  south  on  a  strayed  seal 
ing  schooner.  That  winter  she  cooked  for 
Captain  Markheim's  household  at  Unalaska, 
and  in  the  spring  continued  south  to  Sitka  on 
a  whiskey  sloop.  Later,  she  appeared  at  Met- 
lakahtla,  which  is  near  to  St.  Mary's  on  the 
end  of  the  Pan-Handle,  where  she  worked 
in  the  cannery  through  the  salmon  season. 
When  autumn  came  and  the  Siwash  fishermen 
prepared  to  return  to  Puget  Sound,  she  em 
barked  with  a  couple  of  families  in  a  big  cedar 
canoe  ;  and  with  them  she  threaded  the  hazard- 


THE   STORY   OF   JEES    UCK        273 

ous  chaos  of  the  Alaskan  and  Canadian  coasts,, 
till  the  Straits  of  Juan  de  Fuca  were  passed 
and  she  led  her  boy  by  the  hand  up  the  hard 
pave  of  Seattle. 

There  she  met  Sandy  MacPherson,  on  a 
windy  corner,  very  much  surprised  and,  when 
he  had  heard  her  story,  very  wroth  —  not  so 
wroth  as  he  might  have  been,  had  he  known 
of  Kitty  Sharon  ;  but  of  her  Jees  Uck  breathed 
no  word,  for  she  had  never  believed.  Sandy, 
who  read  commonplace  and  sordid  desertion 
into  the  circumstance,  strove  to  dissuade  her 
from  her  trip  to  San  Francisco,  where  Neil 
Bonner  was  supposed  to  live  when  he  was  at 
home.  And,  having  striven,  he  made  her  com 
fortable,  bought  her  tickets  and  saw  aer  off, 
the  while  smiling  in  her  face  and  muttering 
"  damshame  "  into  his  beard. 

With  roar  and  rumble,  through  daylight  and 
dark,  swaying  and  lurching  between  the  dawns, 
soaring  into  the  winter  snows  and  sinking 
to  summer  valleys,  skirting  depths,  leaping 
chasms,  piercing  mountains,  Jees  Uck  and  her 
boy  were  hurled  south.  But  she  had  no  fear 


274        THE   STORY   OF   JEES    UCK 

of  the  iron  stallion  ;  nor  was  she  stunned  by 
this  masterful  civilization  of  Neil  Bonner's 
people.  It  seemed,  rather,  that  she  saw  with 
greater  clearness  the  wonder  that  a  man  of  such 
godlike  race  had  held  her  in  his  arms.  The 
screaming  medley  of  San  Francisco,  with  its 
restless  shipping,  belching  factories,  and  thun 
dering  traffic,  did  not  confuse  her ;  instead,  she 
comprehended  swiftly  the  pitiful  sordidness  of 
Twenty  Mile  and  the  skin-lodged  Toyaat  vil 
lage.  And  she  looked  down  at  the  boy  that 
clutched  her  hand  and  wondered  that  she  had 
borne  him  by  such  a  man. 

She  paid  the  hack-driver  five  prices  and 
went  up  the  stone  steps  to  Neil  Bonner's  front 
door.  A  slant-eyed  Japanese  parleyed  with 
her  for  a  fruitless  space,  then  led  her  inside 
and  disappeared.  She  remained  in  the  hall, 
which  to  her  simple  fancy  seemed  to  be  the 
guest  room — the  show-place  wherein  were  ar 
rayed  all  the  household  treasures  with  the 
frank  purpose  of  parade  and  dazzlement. 
The  walls  and  ceiling  were  of  oiled  and 
panelled  redwood.  The  floor  was  more  glassy 


THE   STORY   OF   JEES    UCK        275, 

than  glare  ice,  and  she  sought  standing  place 
on  one  of  the  great  skins  that  gave  a  sense 
of  security  to  the  polished  surface.  A  huge 
fireplace  —  an  extravagant  fireplace,  she  deemed 
it  —  yawned  in  the  farther  wall.  A  flood  of 
light,  mellowed  by  stained  glass,  fell  across 
the  room,  and  from  the  far  end  came  the 
white  gleam  of  a  marble  figure. 

This  much  she  saw,  and  more,  when  the 
slant-eyed  servant  led  the  way  past  another 
room  —  of  which  she  caught  a  fleeting  glance 
—  and  into  a  third,  both  of  which  dimmed 
the  brave  show  of  the  entrance  hall.  And  to 
her  eyes  the  great  house  seemed  to  hold  out 
a  promise  of  endless  similar  rooms.  There 
was  such  length  and  breadth  to  them,  and 
the  ceilings  were  so  far  away  !  For  the  first 
time  since  her  advent  into  the  white  man's 
civilization,  a  feeling  of  awe  laid  hold  of  her. 
Neil,  her  Neil,  lived  in  this  house,  breathed 
the  air  of  it,  and  lay  down  at  night  and  slept ! 
It  was  beautiful,  all  this  that  she  saw,  and  it 
pleased  her ;  but  she  felt,  also,  the  wisdom 
and  mastery  behind.  It  was  the  concrete 


276        THE   STORY   OF   JEES   UCK 

expression  of  power  in  terms  of  beauty,  and 
it  was  the  power  that  she  unerringly  divined. 

And  then  came  a  woman,  queenly  tall, 
crowned  with  a  glory  of  hair  that  was  like  a 
golden  sun.  She  seemed  to  come  toward 
Jees  Uck  as  a  ripple  of  music  across  still 
water;  her  sweeping  garment  itself  a  song, 
her  body  playing  rhythmically  beneath.  Jees 
Uck  was  herself  a  man  compeller.  There 
were  Oche  Ish  and  Imego  and  Hah  Yo  and 
Wy  Nooch,  to  say  nothing  of  Neil  Bonner 
and  John  Thompson  and  other  white  men 
that  had  looked  upon  her  and  felt  her  power. 
But  she  gazed  upon  the  wide  blue  eyes  and 
rose-white  skin  of  this  woman  that  advanced 
to  meet  her,  and  she  measured  her  with 
woman's  eyes  looking  through  man's  eyes ; 
and  as  a  man  compeller  she  felt  herself  dimin 
ish  and  grow  insignificant  before  this  radiant 
and  flashing  creature. 

"  You  wish  to  see  my  husband  ? "  the 
woman  asked ;  and  Jees  Uck  gasped  at  the 
liquid  silver  of  a  voice  that  had  never  sounded 
harsh  cries  at  snarling  wolf  dogs,  nor  moulded 


THE   STORY   OF  JEES    UCK        277 

itself  to  a  guttural  speech,  nor  toughened  in 
storm  and  frost  and  camp  smoke. 

"  No/'  Jees  Uck  answered  slowly  and  grop 
ingly,  in  order  that  she  might  do  justice  to  her 
English.  "  I  come  to  see  Neil  Bonner." 

"  He  is  my  husband,"  the  woman  laughed. 

Then  it  was  true !  John  Thompson  had 
not  lied  that  bleak  February  day,  when  she 
laughed  pridefully  and  shut  the  door  in  his 
face.  As  once  she  had  thrown  Amos  Pentley 
across  her  knee  and  ripped  her  knife  into  the 
air,  so  now  she  felt  impelled  to  spring  upon 
this  woman  and  bear  her  back  and  down, 
and  tear  the  life  out  of  her  fair  body.  But 
Jees  Uck  was  thinking  quickly  and  gave  no 
sign,  and  Kitty  Bonner  little  dreamed  how 
intimately  she  had  for  an  instant  been  related 
with  sudden  death. 

Jees  Uck  nodded  her  head  that  she  under 
stood,  and  Kitty  Bonner  explained  that  Neil 
was  expected  at  any  moment.  Then  they 
sat  down  on  ridiculously  comfortable  chairs, 
and  Kitty  sought  to  entertain  her  strange 
visitor,  and  Jees  Uck  strove  to  help  her. 


278        THE   STORY    OF   JEES    UCK 

"  You  knew  my  husband  in  the  North  ? " 
Kitty  asked,  once. 

"  Sure.  I  wash  um  clothes,"  Jees  Uck  had 
answered,  her  English  abruptly  beginning  to 
grow  atrocious. 

"  And  this  is  your  boy  ?  I  have  a  little 
girl." 

Kitty  caused  her  daughter  to  be  brought, 
and  while  the  children,  after  their  manner, 
struck  an  acquaintance,  the  mothers  indulged 
in  the  talk  of  mothers  and  drank  tea  from  cups 
so  fragile  that  Jees  Uck  feared  lest  hers  should 
crumble  to  pieces  between  her  fingers.  Never 
had  she  seen  such  cups,  so  delicate  and  dainty. 
In  her  mind  she  compared  them  with  the 
woman  who  poured  the  tea,  and  there  uprose 
in  contrast  the  gourds  and  pannikins  of  the 
Toyaat  village  and  the  clumsy  mugs  of  Twenty 
Mile,  to  which  she  likened  herself.  And  in 
such  fashion  and  such  terms  the  problem  pre 
sented  itself.  She  was  beaten.  There  was  a 
woman  other  than  herself  better  fitted  to  bear 
and  upbring  Neil  Bonner's  children.  Just  as 
his  people  exceeded  her  people,  so  did  his 


THE   STORY   OF   JEES    UCK        279 

womenkind  exceed  her.  They  were  the  man 
compellers,  as  their  men  were  the  world  com- 
pellers.  She  looked  at  the  rose-white  tenderness 
of  Kitty  Bonner's  skin  and  remembered  the 
sun-beat  on  her  own  face.  Likewise  she  looked 
from  brown  hand  to  white  —  the  one,  work- 
worn  and  hardened  by  whip  handle  and  paddle, 
the  other  as  guiltless  of  toil  and  soft  as  a  new 
born  babe's.  And,  for  all  the  obvious  softness 
and  apparent  weakness,  Jees  Uck  looked  into  the 
blue  eyes  and  saw  the  mastery  she  had  seen  in 
Neil  Bonner's  eyes  and  in  the  eyes  of  Neil 
Bonner's  people. 

"  Why,  it's  Jees  Uck  !  "  Neil  Bonner  said, 
when  he  entered.  He  said  it  calmly,  with  even 
a  ring  of  joyful  cordiality,  coming  over  to  her 
and  shaking  both  her  hands,  but  looking  into 
her  eyes  with  a  worry  in  his  own  that  she 
understood. 

"Hello,  Neil!"  she  said.  "You  look 
much  good." 

"  Fine,  fine,  Jees  Uck,"  he  answered 
heartily,  though  secretly  studying  Kitty  for 
some  sign  of  what  had  passed  between  the  two. 


a8o        THE   STORY   OF   JEES    UCK 

Yet  he  knew  his  wife  too  well  to  expect, 
even  though  the  worst  had  passed,  such  a 
sign. 

"  Well,  I  can't  say  how  glad  I  am  to  see 
you,"  he  went  on.  "  What's  happened  ?  Did 
you  strike  a  mine  ?  And  when  did  you  get 
in  ?  " 

"  Oo-a,  I  get  in  to-day,  "  she  replied,  her 
voice  instinctively  seeking  its  guttural  parts. 
"  I  no  strike  it,  Neil.  You  know  Cap'n 
Markheim,  Unalaska?  I  cook,  his  house, 
long  time.  No  spend  money.  Bime-by, 
plenty.  Pretty  good,  I  think,  go  down  and 
see  White  Man's  Land.  Very  fine,  White 
Man's  Land,  very  fine,"  she  added.  Her 
English  puzzled  him,  for  Sandy  and  he  had 
sought,  constantly,  to  better  her  speech,  and 
she  had  proved  an  apt  pupil.  Now  it  seemed 
that  she  had  sunk  back  into  her  race.  Her 
face  was  guileless,  stolidly  guileless,  giving  no 
cue.  Kitty's  untroubled  brow  likewise  bafBed 
him.  What  had  happened  ?  How  much  had 
been  said  ?  and  how  much  guessed  ? 

While  he  wrestled  with  these  questions  and 


THE   STORY    OF   JEES    UCK        281 

while  Jees  Uck  wrestled  with  her  problem  — 
never  had  he  looked  so  wonderful  and  great  — 
a  silence  fell. 

"  To  think  that  you  knew  my  husband  in 
Alaska  !  "  Kitty  said  softly. 

Knew  him  !  Jees  Uck  could  not  forbear  a 
glance  at  the  boy  she  had  borne  him,  and  his 
eyes  followed  hers  mechanically  to  the  window 
where  played  the  two  children.  An  iron  band 
seemed  to  tighten  across  his  forehead.  His 
knees  went  weak  and  his  heart  leaped  up  and 
pounded  like  a  fist  against  his  breast.  His 
faoy  !  He  had  never  dreamed  it ! 

Little  Kitty  Bonner,  fairylike  in  gauzy  lawn, 
with  pinkest  of  cheeks  and  bluest  of  dancing 
eyes,  arms  outstretched  and  lips  puckered  in 
invitation,  was  striving  to  kiss  the  boy.  And 
the  boy,  lean  and  lithe,  sunbeaten  and  browned, 
skin-clad  and  in  hair-fringed  and  hair-tufted 
muclucs  that  showed  the  wear  of  the  sea  and 
rough  work,  coolly  withstood  her  advances, 
his  body  straight  and  stiff  with  the  peculiar 
erectness  common  to  children  of  savage  people. 
A  stranger  in  a  strange  land,  unabashed  and 


282        THE   STORY   OF   JEES    UCK 

unafraid,  he  appeared  more  like  an  untamed 
animal,  silent  and  watchful,  his  black  eyes 
flashing  from  face  to  face,  quiet  so  long  as 
quiet  endured,  but  prepared  to  spring  and  fight 
and  tear  and  scratch  for  life,  at  the  first  sign 
of  danger. 

The  contrast  between  boy  and  girl  was  strik 
ing,  but  not  pitiful.  There  was  too  much 
strength  in  the  boy  for  that,  waif  that  he  was  of 
the  generations  of  Shpack,  Spike  O'Brien,  and 
Bonner.  In  his  features,  clean  cut  as  a  cameo 
and  almost  classic  in  their  severity,  there  were 
the  power  and  achievement  of  his  father,  and 
his  grandfather,  and  the  one  known  as  the  Big 
Fat,  who  was  captured  by  the  Sea  People  and 
escaped  to  Kamchatka. 

Neil  Bonner  fought  his  emotion  down,  swal 
lowed  it  down,  and  choked  over  it,  though  his 
face  smiled  with  good  humor  and  the  joy  with 
which  one  meets  a  friend. 

"  Your  boy,  eh,  Jees  Uck  ?  "  he  said.  And 
then  turning  to  Kitty :  "  Handsome  fellow  ! 
He'll  do  something  with  those  two  hands  of 
his  in  this  our  world." 


THE   STORY   OF   JEES    UCK        283 

Kitty  nodded  concurrence.  "  What  is  your 
name  ?  "  she  asked. 

The  young  savage  flashed  his  quick  eyes 
upon  her  and  dwelt  over  her  for  a  space,  seek 
ing  out,  as  it  were,  the  motive  beneath  the 
question. 

"  Neil,"  he  answered  deliberately  when  the 
scrutiny  had  satisfied  him. 

"  Injun  talk,"  Jees  Uck  interposed,  glibly 
manufacturing  languages  on  the  spur  of  the 
moment.  "Him  Injun  talk,  nee-al,  all  the 
same  'cracker/  Him  baby,  him  like  cracker; 
him  cry  for  cracker.  Him  say,  f  Nee-al>  nee-al, 
all  time  him  say,  '  Nee-alJ  Then  I  say  that  um 
name.  So  um  name  all  time  Nee-al." 

Never  did  sound  more  blessed  fall  upon 
Neil  Bonner's  ear  than  that  lie  from  Jees  Uck's 
lips.  It  was  the  cue,  and  he  knew  there  was 
reason  for  Kitty's  untroubled  brow. 

"And  his  father?"  Kitty  asked.  "  He 
mast  be  a  fine  man." 

"  Oo-a,  yes,"  was  the  reply.  "  Um  father 
fine  man.  Sure  !  " 

"  Did  you  know  him,  Neil?"  queried  Kitty. 


284        THE   STORY    OF   JEES    UCK 

"  Know  him  ?  Most  intimately,"  Neil  an 
swered,  and  harked  back  to  dreary  Twenty 
Mile  and  the  man  alone  in  the  silence  with 
his  thoughts. 

And  here  might  well  end  the  story  of  Jees 
Uck,  but  for  the  crown  she  put  upon  her  re 
nunciation.  When  she  returned  to  the  North 
to  dwell  in  her  grand  log-house,  John  Thomp 
son  found  that  the  P.  C.  Company  could  make 
a  shift  somehow  to  carry  on  its  business  with 
out  his  aid.  Also,  the  new  agent  and  the 
succeeding  agents  received  instructions  that 
the  woman  Jees  Uck  should  be  given  what 
soever  goods  and  grub  she  desired,  in  whatso 
ever  quantities  she  ordered,  and  that  no  charge 
should  be  placed  upon  the  books.  Further,  the 
company  paid  yearly  to  the  woman  Jees  Uck 
a  pension  of  five  thousand  dollars. 

When  he  had  attained  suitable  age,  Father 
Champreau  laid  hands  upon  the  boy,  and  the 
time  was  not  long  when  Jees  Uck  received 
letters  regularly  from  the  Jesuit  college  in 
Maryland.  Later  on  these  letters  came  from 
Italy,  and  still  later  from  France.  And  in  the 


THE   STORY    OF   JEES    UCK        285 

end  there  returned  to  Alaska  one  Father  Neil, 
a  man  mighty  for  good  in  the  land,  who  loved 
his  mother  and  who  ultimately  went  into  a 
wider  field  and  rose  to  high  authority  in  the 
order. 

Jees  Uck  was  a  young  woman  when  she 
went  back  into  the  North,  and  men  still  looked 
upon  her  and  yearned.  But  she  lived  straight, 
and  no  breath  was  ever  raised  save  in  commen 
dation.  She  stayed  for  a  while  with  the  good 
sisters  at  Holy  Cross,  where  she  learned  to 
read  and  write  and  became  versed  in  practical 
medicine  and  surgery.  After  that  she  returned 
to  her  grand  log-house  and  gathered  about  her 
the  young  girls  of  the  Toyaat  village,  to  show 
them  the  way  of  their  feet  in  the  world.  It  is 
neither  Protestant  nor  Catholic,  this  school  in 
the  house  built  by  Neil  Bonner  for  Jees  Uck, 
his  wife ;  but  the  missionaries  of  all  the  sects 
look  upon  it  with  equal  favor.  The  latch- 
string  is  always  out,  and  tired  prospectors  and 
trail-weary  men  turn  aside  from  the  flowing 
river  or  frozen  trail  to  rest  there  for  a  space 
and  be  warm  by  her  fire.  And,  down  in  the 


286        THE   STORY   OF   JEES   UCK 

States,  Kitty  Bonner  is  pleased  at  the  interest 
her  husband  takes  in  Alaskan  education  and 
the  large  sums  he  devotes  to  that  purpose ; 
and,  though  she  often  smiles  and  chaffs,  deep 
down  and  secretly  she  is  but  the  prouder  of 
him. 


TALES  OF  THE  FISH 
PATROL 


BY 


JACK    LONDON 

AUTHOR  OF   "THE  SEA- WOLF,"    "PEOPLE  OF  THE 
ABYSS,"    "THE    CALL   OF   THE  WILD,"    ETC. 


fork 

THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 
1919 

All  righti  r»««r»W 


COPYRIGHT,  1905, 
BY  PERRY  MASON  COMPANY. 

COPYRIGHT,  1905, 
BY  THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY. 


Set  up  and  electrotyped.      Published  September,  1905.      Reprinted 
December,  1905  ;  February,  1906 ;  April,  1914. 


I 

WHITE   AND   YELLOW 


WHITE   AND   YELLOW 

SAN  FRANCISCO  BAY  is  so  large 
that  often  its  storms  are  more  dis 
astrous  to  ocean-going  craft  than 
is  the  ocean  itself  in  its  violent  moments. 
The  waters  of  the  bay  contain  ail  manner 
of  fish,  wherefore  its  surface  is  ploughed 
by  the  keels  of  all  manner  of  fishing  boats 
manned  by  all  manner  of  fishermen.  To 
protect  the  fish  from  this  motley  float 
ing  population  many  wise  laws  have  been 
passed,  and  there  is  a  fish  patrol  to  see 
that  these  laws  are  enforced.  Exciting 
times  are  the  lot  of  the  fish  patrol:  in 
its  history  more  than  one  dead  patrolman 
has  marked  defeat,  and  more  often  dead 
ii 


12        WHITE   AND   YELLOW 

fishermen     across     their    illegal     nets    have 
marked   success. 

Wildest  among  the  fisher-folk  may  be 
accounted  the  Chinese  shrimp-catchers.  It 
is  the  habit,  of  the  shrimp  to  crawl  along 
the  bottom  in  vast  armies  till  it  reaches 
fresh  water,  when  it  turns  about  and  crawls 
back  again  to  the  salt.  And  where  the 
tide  ebbs  and  flows,  the  Chinese  sink  great 
bag-nets  to  the  bottom,  with  gaping  mouths, 
into  which  the  shrimp  crawls  and  from 
which  it  is  transferred  to  the  boiling-pot. 
This  in  itself  would  not  be  bad,  were  it 
not  for  the  small  mesh  of  the  nets,  so  small 
that  the  tiniest  fishes,  little  new-hatched 
things  not  a  quarter  of  an  inch  long,  can 
not  pass  through.  The  beautiful  beaches 
of  Points  Pedro  and  Pablo,  where  are  the 
shrimp-catchers'  villages,  are  made  fearful 
by  the  stench  from  myriads  of  decaying 


WHITE   AND    YELLOW        13 

fish,  and  against  this  wasteful  destruction  it 
has  ever  been  the  duty  of  the  fish  patrol 
to  act. 

When  I  was  a  youngster  of  sixteen, 
a  good  sloop-sailor  and  all-round  bay- 
waterman,  my  sloop,  the  Reindeer,  was 
chartered  by  the  Fish  Commission,  and  I 
became  for  the  time  being  a  deputy  patrol 
man.  After  a  deal  of  work  among  the 
Greek  fishermen  of  the  Upper  Bay  and 
rivers,  where  knives  flashed  at  the  begin 
ning  of  trouble  and  men  permitted  them 
selves  to  be  made  prisoners  only  after  a 
revolver  was  thrust  in  their  faces,  we  hailed 
with  delight  an  expedition  to  the  Lower  Bay 
against  the  Chinese  shrimp-catchers. 

There  were  six  of  us,  in  two  boats,  and 
to  avoid  suspicion  we  ran  down  after  dark 
and  dropped  anchor  under  a  projecting 
bluff  of  land  known  as  Point  Pinole.  As 


I4        WHITE    AND    YELLOW 

the  east  paled  with  the  first  light  of  dawn 
we  got  under  way  again,  and  hauled  close 
on  the  land  breeze  as  we  slanted  across 
the  bay  toward  Point  Pedro.  The  morn 
ing  mists  curled  and  clung  to  the  water 
so  that  we  could  see  nothing,  but  we  busied 
ourselves  driving  the  chill  from  our  bodies 
with  hot  coffee.  Also  we  had  to  devote 
ourselves  to  the  miserable  task  of  bailing, 
for  in  some  incomprehensible  way  the  Rein 
deer  had  sprung  a  generous  leak.  Half  the 
night  had  been  spent  in  overhauling  the  bal 
last  and  exploring  the  seams,  but  the  labor 
had  been  without  avail.  The  water  still 
poured  in,  and  perforce  we  doubled  up  in 
the  cockpit  and  tossed  it  out  again. 

After  coffee,  three  of  the  men  withdrew 
to  the  other  boat,  a  Columbia  River  salmon 
boat,  leaving  three  of  us  in  the  Reindeer. 
Then  the  two  craft  proceeded  in  company 


WHITE   AND   YELLOW        15 

till  the  sun  showed  over  the  eastern  sky 
line.  Its  fiery  rays  dispelled  the  cling 
ing  vapors,  and  there,  before  our  eyes,  like 
a  picture,  lay  the  shrimp  fleet,  spread 
out  in  a  great  half-moon,  the  tips  of  the 
crescent  fully  three  miles  apart,  and  each 
junk  moored  fast  to  the  buoy  of  a  shrimp- 
net.  But  there  was  no  stir,  no  sign  of  life. 
The  situation  dawned  upon  us.  While 
waiting  for  slack  water,  in  which  to  lift 
their  heavy  nets  from  the  bed  of  the  bay,  the 
Chinese  had  ail  gone  to  sleep  below.  We 
were  elated,  and  our  plan  of  battle  was 
swiftly  formed. 

'Throw  each  of  your  two  men  on  to  a 
junk,"  whispered  Le  Grant  to  me  from 
the  salmon  boat.  "And  you  make  fast  to 
a  third  yourself.  We'll  do  the  same,  and 
there's  no  reason  in  the  world  why  we 
shouldn't  capture  six  junks  at  the  least." 


16        WHITE   AND   YELLOW 

Then  we  separated.  I  put  the  Rein 
deer  about  on  the  other  tack,  ran  up  under 
the  lee  of  a  junk,  shivered  the  mainsail  into 
the  wind  and  lost  headway,  and  forged 
past  the  stern  of  the  junk  so  slowly  and  so 
near  that  one  of  the  patrolmen  stepped 
lightly  aboard.  Then  I  kept  off,  filled  the 
mainsail,  and  bore  away  for  a  second  junk. 

Up  to  this  time  there  had  been  no  noise, 
but  from  the  first  junk  captured  by  the 
salmon  boat  an  uproar  now  broke  forth. 
There  was  shrill  Oriental  yelling,  a  pistol 
shot,  and  more  yelling. 

"It's  all  up.  They're  warning  the  oth 
ers,"  said  George,  the  remaining  patrolman, 
as  he  stood  beside  me  in  the  cockpit. 

By  this  time  we  were  in  the  thick  of 
the  fleet,  and  the  alarm  was  spreading  with 
incredible  swiftness.  The  decks  were 
beginning  to  swarm  with  half-awakened 


WHITE   AND   YELLOW        17 

and  half-naked  Chinese.  Cries  and  yells 
of  warning  and  anger  were  flying  over  the 
quiet  water,  and  somewhere  a  conch  shell 
was  being  blown  with  great  success.  To 
the  right  of  us  I  saw  the  captain  of  a  junk 
chop  away  his  mooring  line  with  an  axe 
and  spring  to  help  his  crew  at  the  hoisting 
of  the  huge,  outlandish  lug-sail.  But  to  the 
left  the  first  heads  were  popping  up  from 
below  on  another  junk,  and  I  rounded  up 
the  Reindeer  alongside  long  enough  for 
George  to  spring  aboard. 

The  whole  fleet  was  now  under  way.  In 
addition  to  the  sails  they  had  gotten  out 
long  sweeps,  and  the  bay  was  being 
ploughed  in  every  direction  by  the  fleeing 
junks.  I  was  now  alone  in  the  Reindeer, 
seeking  feverishly  to  capture  a  third  prize. 
The  first  junk  I  took  after  was  a  clean 
miss,  for  it  trimmed  its  sheets  and  shot 


i8        WHITE   AND   YELLOW 

away  surprisingly  into  the  wind.  By  fully 
half  a  point  it  outpointed  the  Reindeer, 
and  I  began  to  feel  respect  for  the  clumsy 
craft.  Realizing  the  hopelessness  of  the  pur 
suit,  I  filled  away,  threw  out  the  main-sheet, 
and  drove  down  before  the  wind  upon  the 
junks  to  leeward,  where  I  had  them  at  a 
disadvantage. 

The  one  I  had  selected  wavered  inde 
cisively  before  me,  and,  as  I  swung  wide  to 
make  the  boarding  gentle,  filled  suddenly  and 
darted  away,  the  swart  Mongols  shouting 
a  wild  rhythm  as  they  bent  to  the  sweeps. 
But  I  had  been  ready  for  this.  I  luffed 
suddenly.  Putting  the  tiller  hard  down, 
and  holding  it  down  with  my  body,  I 
brought  the  main-sheet  in,  hand  over 
hand,  on  the  run,  so  as  to  retain  all 
possible  striking  force.  The  two  starboard 
sweeps  of  the  junk  were  crumpled  up, 


WHITE   AND   YELLOW        19 

and  then  the  two  boats  came  together  with 
a  crash.  The  Reindeer  s  bowsprit,  like  a 
monstrous  hand,  reached  over  and  ripped 
out  the  junk's  chunky  mast  and  towering 
sail. 

This  was  met  by  a  curdling  yell  of  rage. 
A  big  Chinaman,  remarkably  evil-looking, 
with  his  head  swathed  in  a  yellow  silk 
handkerchief  and  face  badly  pock-marked, 
planted  a  pike-pole  on  the  Reindeer's  bow 
and  began  to  shove  the  entangled  boats 
apart.  Pausing  long  enough  to  let  go  the 
jib  halyards,  and  just  as  the  Reindeer 
cleared  and  began  to  drift  astern,  I  leaped 
aboard  the  junk  with  a  line  and  made  fast. 
He  of  the  yellow  handkerchief  and  pock 
marked  face  came  toward  me  threaten 
ingly,  but  I  put  my  hand  into  my  hip  pocket, 
and  he  hesitated.  I  was  unarmed,  but  the 
Chinese  have  learned  to  be  fastidiously 


20        WHITE   AND   YELLOW 

careful  of  American  hip  pockets,  and  it 
was  upon  this  that  I  depended  to  keep  him 
and  his  savage  crew  at  a  distance. 

I  ordered  him  to  drop  the  anchor  at 
the  junk's  bow,  to  which  he  replied,  "No 
sabbe."  The  crew  responded  in  like  fash 
ion,  and  though  I  made  my  meaning  plain 
by  signs,  they  refused  to  understand.  Real 
izing  the  inexpediency  of  discussing  the 
matter,  I  went  forward  myself,  overran  the 
line,  and  let  the  anchor  go. 

"Now  get  aboard,  four  of  you,"  I  said 
in  a  loud  voice,  indicating  with  my  fingers 
that  four  of  them  were  to  go  with  me  and 
the  fifth  was  to  remain  by  the  junk.  The 
Yellow  Handkerchief  hesitated;  but  T  re 
peated  the  order  fiercely  (much  more  fiercely 
than  I  felt),  at  the  same  time  sending  my 
hand  to  my  hip.  Again  the  Yellow  Hand 
kerchief  was  overawed,  and  with  surly 


WHITE   AND   YELLOW        21 

looks  he  led  three  of  his  men  aboard  the 
Reindeer.  I  cast  off  at  once,  and,  leaving 
the  jib  down,  steered  a  course  for  George's 
junk.  Here  it  was  easier,  for  there  were 
two  of  us,  and  George  had  a  pistol  to  fall 
back  on  if  it  came  to  the  worst.  And  here, 
as  with  my  junk,  four  Chinese  were  trans 
ferred  to  the  sloop  and  one  left  behind  ta 
take  care  of  things. 

Four  more  were  added  to  our  passenger 
list  from  the  third  junk.  By  this  time  the 
salmon  boat  had  collected  its  twelve  pris 
oners  and  came  alongside,  badly  overloaded 
To  make  matters  worse,  as  it  was  a  small 
boat,  the  patrolmen  were  so  jammed  in 
with  their  prisoners  that  they  would  have 
little  chance  in  case  of  trouble. 

"You'll   have   to   help    us    out,"    said   Le 
Grant. 

I    looked    over    my    prisoners,    who    had 


22        WHITE   AND   YELLOW 

crowded  into  the  cabin  and  on  top  of  it. 
"I  can  take  three/'  I  answered. 

"Make  it  four,"  he  suggested,  "and  I'll 
take  Bill  with  me."  (Bill  was  the  third 
patrolman.)  "We  haven't  elbow  room  here, 
and  in  case  of  a  scuffle  one  white  to  every 
two  of  them  will  be  just  about  the  right 
proportion." 

The  exchange  was  made,  and  the  salmon 
boat  got  up  its  spritsail  and  headed  down 
the  bay  toward  the  marshes  off  San  RafaeL 
I  ran  up  the  jib  and  followed  with  the 
Reindeer.  San  Rafael,  where  we  were  to 
turn  our  catch  over  to  the  authorities,  com 
municated  with  the  bay  by  way  of  a  long 
and  tortuous  slough,  or  marshland  creek, 
which  could  be  navigated  only  when  the 
tide  was  in.  Slack  water  had  come,  and, 
as  the  ebb  was  commencing,  there  was 
need  for  hurry  if  we  cared  to  escape  wait 
ing  half  a  day  for  the  next  tide. 


WHITE   AND   YELLOW        23 

But  the  land  breeze  had  begun  to  die 
away  with  the  rising  sun,  and  now  came 
only  in  failing  puffs.  The  salmon  boat 
got  out  its  oars  and  soon  left  us  far  astern. 
Some  of  the  Chinese  stood  in  the  forward 
part  of  the  cockpit,  near  the  cabin  doors, 
and  once,  as  I  leaned  over  the  cockpit 
rail  to  flatten  down  the  jib-sheet  a  bit,  I  felt 
some  one  brush  against  my  hip  pocket.  I 
made  no  sign,  but  out  of  the  corner  of  my 
eye  I  saw  that  the  Yellow  Handkerchief 
had  discovered  the  emptiness  of  the  pocket 
which  had  hitherto  overawed  him. 

To  make  matters  serious,  during  all  the 
excitement  of  boarding  the  junks  the  Rein 
deer  had  not  been  bailed,  and  the  water 
was  beginning  to  slush  over  the  cockpit 
floor.  The  shrimp-catchers  pointed  at  it 
and  looked  to  me  questioningly. 

"Yes,"    I    said.     "Bime    by,    allee    same 


24        WHITE    AND    YELLOW 

dlown,  velly  quick,  you  no  bail  now. 
Sabbe?" 

No,  they  did  not  "sabbe,"  or  at  least 
they  shook  their  heads  to  that  effect,  though 
they  chattered  most  comprehendingly  to  one 
another  in  their  own  lingo.  I  pulled  up 
three  or  four  of  the  bottom  boards,  got  a 
couple  of  buckets  from  a  locker,  and  by 
unmistakable  sign-language  invited  them  to 
fall  to.  But  they  laughed,  and  some  crowded 
into  the  cabin  and  some  climbed  up  on  top. 

Their  laughter  was  not  good  laughter. 
There  was  a  hint  of  menace  in  it,  a  mali 
ciousness  which  their  black  looks  verified. 
The  Yellow  Handkerchief,  since  his  dis 
covery  of  my  empty  pocket,  had  become 
most  insolent  in  his  bearing,  and  he  wormed 
about  among  the  other  prisoners,  talking 
to  them  with  great  earnestness. 

Swallowing  my  chagrin,  I    stepped    down 


WHITE    AND    YELLOW        25 

into  the  cockpit  and  began  throwing  out 
the  water.  But  hardly  had  I  begun,  when 
the  boom  swung  overhead,  the  mainsail 
filled  with  a  jerk,  and  the  Reindeer  heeled 
over.  The  day  wind  was  springing  up. 
George  was  the  veriest  of  landlubbers,  so 
I  was  forced  to  give  over  bailing  and  take 
the  tiller.  The  wind  was  blowing  directly 
off  Point  Pedro  and  the  high  mountains 
behind,  and  because  of  this  was  squally 
and  uncertain,  half  the  time  bellying  the 
canvas  out,  and  the  other  half  flapping  it 
idly. 

George  was  about  the  most  all-round 
helpless  man  I  had  ever  met.  Among  his 
other  disabilities,  he  was  a  consumptive, 
and  I  knew  that  if  he  attempted  to  bail, 
it  might  bring  on  a  hemorrhage.  Yet 
the  rising  water  warned  me  that  some 
thing  must  be  clone.  Again  I  ordered  the 


a6        WHITE   AND   YELLOW 

shrimp-catchers  to  lend  a  hand  with  the 
buckets.  They  laughed  defiantly,  and  those 
inside  the  cabin,  the  water  up  to  their 
ankles,  shouted  back  and  forth  with  those 
on  top. 

"You'd  better  get  out  your  gun  and 
make  them  bail,"  I  said  to  George. 

But  he  shook  his  head  and  showed  all 
too  plainly  that  he  was  afraid.  The  Chi 
nese  could  see  the  funk  he  was  in  as  well 
as  I  could,  and  their  insolence  became 
insufferable.  Those  in  the  cabin  broke  into 
the  food  lockers,  and  those  above  scrambled 
down  and  joined  them  in  a  feast  on  our 
crackers  and  canned  goods. 

"What  do  we  care  ?"   George  said  weakly. 

I  was  fuming  with  helpless  anger.  "If 
they  get  out  of  hand,  it  will  be  too  late  to 
care.  The  best  thing  you  can  do  is  to  get 
them  in  check  right  now." 


WHITE   AND   YELLOW        27 

The  water  was  rising  higher  and  higher, 
and  the  gusts,  forerunners  of  a  steady  breeze, 
were  growing  stiffer  and  stiffer.  And  be 
tween  the  gusts,  the  prisoners,  having 
gotten  away  with  a  week's  grub,  took  to 
crowding  first  to  one  side  and  then  to  the 
other  till  the  Reindeer  rocked  like  a  cockle 
shell.  Yellow  Handkerchief  approached 
me,  and,  pointing  out  his  village  on  the 
Point  Pedro  beach,  gave  me  to  understand 
that  if  I  turned  the  Reindeer  in  that  direc 
tion  and  put  them  ashore,  they,  in  turn, 
would  go  to  bailing.  By  now  the  water  in 
the  cabin  was  up  to  the  bunks,  and  the  bed 
clothes  were  sopping.  It  was  a  foot  deep 
on  the  cockpit  floor.  Nevertheless  I  re 
fused,  and  I  could  see  by  George's  face 
that  he  was  disappointed. 

"If  you  don't  show  some  nerve,  they'll 
rush  us  and  throw  us  overboard,"  I  said 


$8        WHITE   AND    YELLOW 

to  him.  "Better  give  me  your  revolver, 
if  you  want  to  be  safe." 

"The  safest  thing  to  do,"  he  chattered 
cravenly,  "is  to  put  them  ashore.  I,  for 
one,  don't  want  to  be  drowned  for  the  sake 
of  a  handful  of  dirty  Chinamen/' 

"And  I,  for  another,  don't  care  to  give 
in  to  a  handful  of  dirty  Chinamen  to  escape 
drowning,"  I  answered  hotly. 

"You'll  sink  the  Reindeer  under  us  all 
at  this  rate,"  he  whined.  "And  what  good 
that'll  do  I  can't  see." 

"Every  man  to  his  taste,"  I  retorted. 

He  made  no  reply,  but  I  could  see  he  was 
trembling  pitifully.  Between  the  threaten 
ing  Chinese  and  the  rising  water  he  was 
beside  himself  with  fright;  and,  more  than 
the  Chinese  and  the  water,  I  feared  him  and 
what  his  fright  might  impel  him  to  do.  I 
could  see  him  casting  longing  glances  at  the 


WHITE   AND   YELLOW        29 

small  skiff  towing  astern,  so  in  the  next 
calm  I  hauled  the  skiff  alongside.  As  I 
did  so  his  eyes  brightened  with  hope;  but 
before  he  could  guess  my  intention,  I  stove 
the  frail  bottom  through  with  a  hand-axe, 
and  the  skiff  filled  to  its  gunwales. 

'''It's  sink  or  float  together,"  I  said. 
"And  if  you'll  give  me  your  revolver,  I'D 
have  the  Reindeer  bailed  out  in  a  jiffy." 

"  They're  too  many  for  us,"  he  whim 
pered.  "We  can't  fight  them  all." 

I  turned  my  back  on  him  in  disgust.  The 
salmon  boat  had  long  since  passed  from 
sight  behind  a  little  archipelago  known  as 
the  Mann  Islands,  so  no  help  could  be 
looked  for  from  that  quarter.  Yellow  Hand 
kerchief  came  up  to  me  in  a  familiar 
manner,  the  water  in  the  cockpit  slushing 
against  his  legs.  I  did  not  like  his  looks. 
I  felt  that  beneath  the  pleasant  smile  he  was 


30        WHITE   AND   YELLOW 

trying  to  put  on  his  face  there  was  an  ill 
purpose,  I  ordered  him  back,  and  so  sharply 
that  he  obeyed. 

"Now  keep  your  distance/*  I  commanded, 
"and  don't  you  come  closer!" 

"Wha'  fo'  ?"  he  demanded  indignantly. 
"I  t'ink-um  talkee  talkee  heap  good." 

"Talkee  talkee,"  I  answered  bitterly,  for  I 
knew  now  that  he  had  understood  all  that 
passed  between  George  and  me.  "What  for 
talkee  talkee  ?  You  no  sabbe  talkee  talkee." 

He  grinned  in  a  sickly  fashion.  "Yep, 
1  sabbe  velly  much.  I  honest  Chinaman." 

"All  right,"  I  answered.  "You  sabbe 
talkee  talkee,  then  you  bail  water  plenty 
plenty.  After  that  we  talkee  talkee." 

He  shook  his  head,  at  the  same  time 
pointing  over  his  shoulder  to  his  comrades. 
**No  can  do.  Velly  bad  Chinamen,  heap 
velly  bad.  I  t'ink-um  — ' 


WHITE   AND   YELLOW        31 

"Stand  back!"  I  shouted,  for  I  had 
noticed  his  hand  disappear  beneath  his 
blouse  and  his  body  prepare  for  a  spring. 

Disconcerted,  he  went  back  into  the 
cabin,  to  hold  a  council,  apparently,  from 
the  way  the  jabbering  broke  forth.  The 
Reindeer  was  very  deep  in  the  water,  and 
her  movements  had  grown  quite  loggy.  In 
a  rough  sea  she  would  have  inevitably 
swamped;  but  the  wind,  when  it  did  blow, 
was  off  the  land,  and  scarcely  a  ripple  dis 
turbed  the  surface  of  the  bay. 

"I  think  you'd  better  head  for  the 
beach,"  George  said  abruptly,  in  a  man 
ner  that  told  me  his  fear  had  forced  him 
to  make  up  his  mind  to  some  course  of 
action, 

"I  think  not,"  I  answered  shortly. 

"I  command  you,"  he  said  in  a  bully 
ing  tone. 


32        WHITE   AND   YELLOW 

"I  was  commanded  to  bring  these  pris 
oners  into  San  Rafael,"  was  my  reply. 

Our  voices  were  raised,  and  the  sound 
of  the  altercation  brought  the  Chinese  ou^: 
of  the  cabin. 

"Now  will  you  head  for  the  beach  ?" 

This    from    George,   and    I    found    myself 
looking   into   the   muzzle   of  his   revolver  - 
of  the  revolver  he  dared  to  use  on  me,  but 
was  too  cowardly  to  use  on  the  prisoners. 

My  brain  seemed  smitten  with  a  dazzling 
brightness.  The  whole  situation,  in  all  its 
bearings,  was  focussed  sharply  before  me 
—  the  shame  of  losing  the  prisoners,  the 
worthlessness  and  cowardice  of  George,  the 
meeting  with  Le  Grant  and  the  other  patrol 
men  and  the  lame  explanation;  and  then 
there  was  the  fight  I  had  fought  so  hard, 
victory  wrenched  from  me  just  as  I  thought 
I  had  it  within  my  grasp.  And  out  of  the 


WHITE   AND    YELLOW        33 

tail  of  my  eye  I  could  see  the  Chinese  crowd 
ing  together  by  the  cabin  doors  and  leer 
ing  triumphantly.  It  would  never  do. 

I  threw  my  hand  up  and  my  head  down. 
The  first  act  elevated  the  muzzle,  and 
the  second  removed  my  head  from  the 
path  of  the  bullet  which  went  whistling 
past.  One  hand  closed  on  George's  wrist, 
the  other  on  the  revolver.  Yellow  Hand 
kerchief  and  his  gang  sprang  toward  me. 
It  was  now  or  never.  Putting  all  my 
strength  into  a  sudden  effort,  I  swung 
George's  body  forward  to  meet  them.  Then 
I  pulled  back  with  equal  suddenness,  rip 
ping  the  revolver  out  of  his  fingers  and 
jerking  him  off  his  feet.  He  fell  against 
Yellow  Handkerchief's  knees,  who  stumbled 
over  him,  and  the  pair  wallowed  in  the 
bailing  hole  where  the  cockpit  floor  was 
torn  open.  The  next  instant  I  was  cover- 


34        WHITE   AND   YELLOW 

ing  them  with  my  revolver,  and  the  wild 
shrimp-catchers  were  cowering  and  cringing 
away. 

But  I  swiftly  discovered  that  there  was 
all  the  difference  in  the  world  between 
shooting  men  who  are  attacking  and  men 
who  are  doing  nothing  more  than  simply 
refusing  to  obey.  For  obey  they  would 
not  when  I  ordered  them  into  the  bailing 
hole.  I  threatened  them  with  the  revolver, 
but  they  sat  stolidly  in  the  flooded  cabin 
and  on  the  roof  and  would  not  move. 

Fifteen  minutes  passed,  the  Reindeer  sink 
ing  deeper  and  deeper,  her  mainsail  flapping 
in  the  calm.  But  from  off  the  Point  Pedro 
shore  I  saw  a  dark  line  form  on  the  water 
and  travel  toward  us.  It  was  the  steady 
breeze  I  had  been  expecting  so  long.  I 
called  to  the  Chinese  and  pointed  it  out. 
They  hailed  it  with  exclamations.  Then  I 


WHITE   AND    YELLOW        35 

pointed  to  the  sail  and  to  the  water  in  the 
Reindeer,  and  indicated  by  signs  that  when 
the  wind  reached  the  sail,  what  of  the  water 
aboard  we  would  capsize.  But  they  jeered 
defiantly,  for  they  knew  it  was  in  my  power 
to  luff  the  helm  and  let  go  the  main-sheet, 
so  as  to  spill  the  wind  and  escape  damage. 

But  my  mind  was  made  up.  I  hauled 
in  the  main-sheet  a  foot  or  two,  took  a  turn 
with  it,  and  bracing  my  feet,  put  my  hack 
against  the  tiller.  This  left  me  one  hand 
for  the  sheet  and  one  for  the  revolver.  The 
dark  line  drew  nearer,  and  I  could  see  them 
looking  from  me  to  it  and  back  again  with 
an  apprehension  they  could  not  successfully 
conceal.  My  brain  and  will  and  endurance 
were  pitted  against  theirs,  and  the  problem 
was  which  could  stand  the  strain  of  im 
minent  death  the  longer  and  not  give  in. 

Then    the    wind    struck    us.     The    main- 


36        WHITE   AND   YELLOW 

sheet  tautened  with  a  brisk  rattling  of  the 
blocks,  the  boom  uplifted,  the  sail  bellied 
out,  and  the  Reindeer  heeled  over  —  over, 
and  over,  till  the  lee-rail  went  under,  the 
deck  went  under,  the  cabin  windows  went 
under,  and  the  bay  began  to  pour  in  over 
the  cockpit  rail.  So  violently  had  she  heeled 
over,  that  the  men  in  the  cabin  had  been 
thrown  on  top  of  one  another  into  the  lee 
bunk,  where  they  squirmed  and  twisted 
and  were  washed  about,  those  underneath 
being  perilously  near  to  drowning. 

The  wind  freshened  a  bit,  and  the  Rein- 
deer  went  over  farther  than  ever.  For  the 
moment  I  thought  she  was  gone,  and  I 
knew  that  another  puff  like  that  and  she 
surely  would  go.  While  I  pressed  her  under 
and  debated  whether  I  should  give  up  or 
not,  the  Chinese  cried  for  mercy.  I  think 
it  was  the  sweetest  sound  I  have  ever  heard. 


WHITE   AND   YELLOW        37 

And  then,  and  not  until  then,  did  I  luff  up 
and  ease  out  the  main-sheet.  The  Rein 
deer  righted  very  slowly,  and  when  she  was 
on  an  even  keel  was  so  much  awash  that 
I  doubted  if  she  could  be  saved. 

But  the  Chinese  scrambled  madly  into 
the  cockpit  and  fell  to  bailing  with  buckets, 
pots,  pans,  and  everything  they  could  lay 
hands  on.  It  was  a  beautiful  sight  to  see 
that  water  flying  over  the  side !  And  when 
the  Reindeer  was  high  and  proud  on  the 
water  once  more,  we  dashed  away  with  the 
breeze  on  our  quarter,  and  at  the  last  pos 
sible  moment  crossed  the  mud  flats  and 
entered  the  slough. 

The  spirit  of  the  Chinese  was  broken, 
and  so  docile  did  they  become  that  ere  we 
made  San  Rafael  they  were  out  with  the 
tow-rope,  Yellow  Handkerchief  at  the  head 
of  the  line.  As  for  George,  it  was  his  last 


38        WHITE   AND   YELLOW 

trip  with  the  fish  patrol.  He  did  not  care 
for  that  sort  of  thing,  he  explained,  and  he 
thought  a  clerkship  ashore  was  good  enough 
for  him.  And  we  thought  so,  too. 


II 

THE  KING  OF  THE  GREEKS 


THE  KING  OF  THE  GREEKS 

B[G  ALEC  had  never  been  captured  by 
the  fish  patrol.     It  was  his  boast  that 
no  man  could  take  him  alive,  and  it 
was  his  history  that  of  the  many  men  who 
had  tried  to  take  him  dead  none  had  suc 
ceeded.     It   was    also    history  that    at   least 
two   patrolmen  who  had  tried  to  take  him 
dead  had  died  themselves.     Further,  no  man 
violated    the    fish    laws   more   systematically 
and  deliberately  than  Big  Alec. 

He  was  called  "Big  Alec"  because  of 
his  gigantic  stature.  His  height  was  six 
feet  three  inches,  and  he  was  correspond 
ingly  broad-shouldered  and  deep-chested. 
He  was  splendidly  muscled  and  hard  as 
41 


42     THE    KING    OF   THE    GREEKS 

steel,  and  there  were  innumerable  stories 
m  circulation  among  the  fisher-folk  con 
cerning  his  prodigious  strength.  He  was 
as  bold  and  dominant  of  spirit  as  he  was 
strong  of  body,  and  because  of  this  he  was 
widely  known  by  another  name,  that  of 
"The  King  of  the  Greeks."  The  fishing 
population  was  largely  composed  of  Greeks, 
and  they  looked  up  to  him  and  obeyed  him 
as  their  chief.  And  as  their  chief,  he  fought 
their  fights  for  them,  saw  that  they  were 
protected,  saved  them  from  the  law  when 
they  fell  into  its  clutches,  and  made  them 
stand  by  one  another  and  himself  in  time 
of  trouble. 

In  the  old  days,  the  fish  patrol  had  at 
tempted  his  capture  many  disastrous  times 
and  had  finally  given  it  over,  so  that  when 
the  word  was  out  that  he  was  coming  to 
Benicia,  I  was  most  anxious  to  see  him. 


THE    KING   OF   THE   GREEKS     43 

But  I  did  not  have  to  hunt  him  up.  In  his 
usual  bold  way,  the  first  thing  he  did  on 
arriving  was  to  hunt  us  up.  Charley  Le 
Grant  and  I  at  the  time  were  under  a  pa 
trolman  named  Carmintel,  and  the  three  of 
us  were  on  the  Reindeer,  preparing  for  a 
trip,  when  Big  Alec  stepped  aboard.  Car 
mintel  evidently  knew  him,  for  they  shook 
hands  in  recognition.  Big  Alec  took  no 
notice  of  Charley  or  me. 

"I've  come  down  to  fish  sturgeon  a  couple 
of  months,"  he  said  to  Carmintel. 

His  eyes  flashed  with  challenge  as  he 
spoke,  and  we  noticed  the  patrolman's  eyes 
drop  before  him. 

"That's  all  right,  Alec,"  Carmintel  said  in 
a  low  voice.  "I'll  not  bother  you.  Come 
on  into  the  cabin,  and  we'll  talk  things 
over,"  he  added. 

When  they  had  gone  inside  and  shut  the 


44     THE    KING   OF   THE    GREEKS 

doors  after  them,  Charley  winked  with 
slow  deliberation  at  me.  But  I  was  only 
a  youngster,  and  new  to  men  and  the  ways 
of  some  men,  so  I  did  not  understand.  Nor 
did  Charley  explain,  though  I  felt  there 
was  something  wrong  about  the  business. 

Leaving  them  to  their  conference,  at 
Charley's  suggestion  we  boarded  our  skiff 
and  pulled  over  to  the  Old  Steamboat 
Wharf,  where  Big  Alec's  ark  was  lying. 
An  ark  is  a  house-boat  of  small  though 
comfortable  dimensions,  and  is  as  necessary 
to  the  Upper  Bay  fisherman  as  are  nets 
and  boats.  We  were  both  curious  to  see 
Big  Alec's  ark,  for  history  said  that  it  had 
been  the  scene  of  more  than  one  pitched 
battle,  and  that  it  was  riddled  with  bullet- 
holes, 

We  found  the  holes  (stopped  with  wooden 
plugs  and  painted  over),  but  there  were 


THE    KING   OF   THE   GREEKS    45 

not  so  many  as  I  had  expected.  Charley 
noted  my  look  of  disappointment,  and 
laughed;  and  then  to  comfort  me  he  gave 
an  authentic  account  of  one  expedition 
which  had  descended  upon  Big  Alec's  float 
ing  home  to  capture  him,  alive  preferably, 
dead  if  necessary.  At  the  end  of  half  a 
day's  fighting,  the  patrolmen  had  drawn  off 
in  wrecked  boats,  with  one  of  their  number 
killed  and  three  wounded.  And  when  they 
returned  next  morning  with  reinforcements 
they  found  only  the  mooring-stakes  of  Big 
Alec's  ark;  the  ark  itself  remained  hidden 
for  months  in  the  fastnesses  of  the  Suisun 
tules. 

*'  But  why  was  he  not  hanged  for  mur 
der?"  I  demanded.  "Surely  the  United 
States  is  powerful  enough  to  bring  such  a 
man  to  justice/' 

"He   gave   himself   up   and   stood   trial," 


46     THE    KING   OF   THE    GREEKS 

Charley  answered.  "It  cost  him  fifty  thou 
sand  dollars  to  win  the  case,  which  he  did 
on  technicalities  and  with  the  aid  of  the 
best  lawyers  in  the  state.  Every  Greek 
fisherman  on  the  river  contributed  to  the 
sum.  Big  Alec  levied  and  collected  the  tax, 
for  all  the  world  like  a  king.  The  United 
States  may  be  all-powerful,  my  lad,  but  the 
fact  remains  that  Big  Alec  is  a  king  inside 
the  United  States,  with  a  country  and  sub 
jects  all  his  own." 

"But  wThat  are  you  going  to  do  about  his 
fishing  for  sturgeon  ?  He's  bound  to  fish 
with  a  '  Chinese  line/' 

Charley  shrugged  his  shoulders,  "We'll 
see  what  we  will  see/'  he  said  enigmati 
cally. 

Now  a  "Chinese  line"  is  a  cunning  device 
invented  by  the  people  whose  name  it  bears. 
By  a  simple  system  of  floats,  weights,  and 


THE    KING   OF   THE    GREEKS     47 

anchors,  thousands  of  hooks,  each  on  a 
separate  leader,  are  suspended  at  a  distance 
of  from  six  inches  to  a  foot  above  the  bot 
tom.  The  remarkable  thing  about  such  a 
line  is  the  hook.  It  is  barbless,  and  in 
place  of  the  barb,  the  hook  is  filed  long  and 
tapering  to  a  point  as  sharp  as  that  of  a 
needle.  These  hooks  are  only  a  few  inches 
apart,  and  when  several  thousand  of  them 
are  suspended  jus  e  the  bottom,  like 

a  fringe,  for  a  couple  of  hundred  fathoms, 
they  present  a  formidable  obstacle  to  the 
fish  that  travel  along  the  bottom. 

Such  a  fish  is  the  sturgeon,  which  goes 
rooting  along  like  a  pig,  and  indeed  is  often 
called  "pig-fish."  Pricked  by  the  first  hook 
it  touches,  the  sturgeon  gives  a  startled  leap 
and  comes  into  contact  with  half  a  dozen 
more  hooks.  Then  it  threshes  about  wildly, 
until  it  receives  hook  after  hook  in  its  soft 


48     THE    KING   OF   THE    GREEKS 

flesh;  and  the  hooks,  straining  from  many 
different  angles,  hold  the  luckless  fish  fast 
until  it  is  drowned.  Because  no  sturgeon 
can  pass  through  a  Chinese  line,  the  device 
is  called  a  trap  in  the  fish  laws;  and 
because  it  bids  fair  to  exterminate  the  stur 
geon,  it  is  branded  by  the  fish  laws  as 
illegal.  And  such  a  line,  we  were  confident, 
Big  Alec  intended  setting,  in  open  and 
flagrant  violation  of  the  law. 

Several  days  passed  after  the  visit  of  Big 
Alec,  during  which  Charley  and  I  kept  a 
sharp  watch  on  him.  He  towed  his  ark 
around  the  Solano  Wharf  and  into  the  big 
bight  at  Turner's  Shipyard.  The  bight  we 
knew  to  be  good  ground  for  sturgeon,  and 
there  we  felt  sure  the  King  of  the  Greeks 
intended  to  begin  operations.  The  tide 
circled  like  a  mill-race  in  and  out  of  this 
bight,  and  made  it  possible  to  raise,  lower, 


THE   KING   OF   THE   GREEKS    49 

or  set  a  Chinese  line  only  at  slack  water. 
So  between  the  tides  Charley  and  I  made 
it  a  point  for  one  or  the  other  of  us  to  keep 
a  lookout  from  the  Solano  Wharf. 

On  the  fourth  day  I  was  lying  in  the  sun 
behind  the  stringer-piece  of  the  wharf, 
\vhen  I  saw  a  skiff  leave  the  distant  shore 
and  pull  out  into  the  bight.  In  an  instant 
the  glasses  were  at  my  eyes  and  I  was  fol 
lowing  every  movement  of  the  skiff.  There 
were  two  men  in  it,  and  though  it  was  a 
good  mile  away,  I  made  out  one  of  them 
to  be  Big  Alec;  and  ere  the  skiff  returned 
to  shore  I  made  out  enough  more  to  know 
that  the  Greek  had  set  his  line. 

"Big  Alec  has  a  Chinese  line  out  in  the 
bight  off  Turner's  Shipyard,"  Charley  Le 
Grant  said  that  afternoon  to  Carmintel. 

A  fleeting  expression  of  annoyance  passed 
over  the  patrolman's  face,  and  then  he 


50     THE    KING   OF   THE    GREEKS 

said,  "Yes?"  in  an  absent  way,  and  that 
was  all. 

Charley  bit  his  lip  with  suppressed  anger 
and  turned  on  his  heel. 

"Are  you  game,  my  lad?"  he  said  to 
me  later  on  in  the  evening,  just  as  we  fin 
ished  washing  down  the  Reindeer  s  decks 
and  were  preparing  to  turn  in. 

A  lump  came  up  in  my  throat,  and  I 
could  only  nod  my  head. 

"Well,  then,"  and  Charley's  eyes  glit 
tered  in  a  determined  way,  "we've  got  to 
capture  Big  Alec  between  us,  you  and  I, 
and  we've  got  to  do  it  in  spite  of  Carmintel. 
Will  you  lend  a  hand  ?" 

"It's  a  hard  proposition,  but  we  can  do 
it,"  he  added  after  a  pause. 

"Of  course  we  can,"  I  supplemented 
enthusiastically. 

And  then  he  said,  "Of  course  we  can,'* 


THE    KING   OF   THE    GREEKS     51 

and  we  shook  hands  on  it  and  went  to 
bed. 

But  it  was  no  easy  task  we  had  set  our 
selves.  In  order  to  convict  a  man  of  illegal 
fishing,  it  was  necessary  to  catch  him  in  the 
act  with  all  the  evidence  of  the  crime  about 
him  —  the  hooks,  the  lines,  the  fish,  and 
the  man  himself.  This  meant  that  we 
must  take  Big  Alec  on  the  open  water, 
where  he  could  see  us  coming  and  prepare 
for  us  one  of  the  warm  receptions  for  which 
he  was  noted. 

"There's  no  getting  around  it,"  Charley 
said  one  morning.  "If  we  can  only  get 
alongside  it's  an  even  toss,  and  there's  noth 
ing  left  for  us  but  to  try  and  get  alongside. 
Come  on,  lad/' 

We  were  in  the  Columbia  River  salmon 
boat,  the  one  we  had  used  against  the 
Chinese  shrimp-catchers.  Slack  water  had 


52     THE    KING   OF   THE    GREEKS 

come,  and  as  we  dropped  around  the  end  of 
the  Solano  Wharf  we  saw  Big  Alec  at  work,, 
running  his  line  and  removing  the  fish. 

"Change  places,"  Charley  commanded,, 
"and  steer  just  astern  of  him  as  though 
you're  going  into  the  shipyard." 

I  took  the  tiller,  and  Charley  sat  down  on 
a  thwart  amidships,  placing  his  revolver 
handily  beside  him. 

"If  he  begins  to  shoot,"  he  cautioned,, 
"get  down  in  the  bottom  and  steer  from 
there,  so  that  nothing  more  than  your  hand 
will  be  exposed." 

I  nodded,  and  we  kept  silent  after  that,, 
the  boat  slipping  gently  through  the  water 
and  Big  Alec  growing  nearer  and  nearer. 
We  could  see  him  quite  plainly,  gaffing  the 
sturgeon  and  throwing  them  into  the  boat 
while  his  companion  ran  the  line  and  cleared 
the  hooks  as  he  dropped  them  back  into 


THE    KING   OF   THE    GREEKS     53 

the  water.  Nevertheless,  we  were  five  hun 
dred  yards  away  when  the  big  fishermaa 
hailed  us. 

"Here!  You!  What  do  you  want?"  he 
shouted, 

"Keep  go:ng,"  Charley  whispered,  "just 
as  though  you  didn't  hear  him." 

The  next  few  moments  were  very  anx 
ious  ones.  The  fisherman  was  studying  us 
sharply,  while  we  were  gliding  up  on  him 
every  second. 

"You  keep  off  if  you  know  what's  good 
for  you!"  he  called  out  suddenly,  as  though 
he  had  made  up  his  mind  as  to  who  and 
what  we  were,  "If  you  don't,  I'll  fix 
you!" 

He  brought  a  rifle  to  his  shoulder  and 
trained  it  on  me. 

"New  will  you  keep  off?"  he  demanded. 

I   could   hear  Charley  groan  with   disap- 


54     THE   KING   OF   THE   GREEKS 

pointment.  "Keep  off,"  he  whispered; 
"it's  all  up  for  this  time." 

I  put  up  the  tiller  and  eased  the  sheet, 
and  the  salmon  boat  ran  off  five  or  six  points. 
Big  Alec  watched  us  till  we  were  out  of 
range,  when  he  returned  to  his  work. 

"You'd  better  leave  Big  Alec  alone," 
Carmintel  said,  rather  sourly,  to  Charley 
that  night. 

"So  he's  been  complaining  to  you,  has 
he?"  Charley  said  significantly. 

Carmintel  flushed  painfully.  "You'd  bet 
ter  leave  him  alone,  I  tell  you,"  he  repeated. 
"He's  a  dangerous  man,  and  it  won't  pay 
to  fool  with  him." 

"Yes,"  Charley  answered  softly;  "I've 
heard  that  it  pays  better  to  leave  him  alone." 

This  was  a  direct  thrust  at  Carmintel, 
and  we  could  see  by  the  expression  of  his 
face  that  it  sank  home.  For  it  was  common 


THE   KING   OF   THE   GREEKS     55 

knowledge  that  Big  Alec  was  as  willing  to 
bribe  as  to  fight,  and  that  of  late  years  more 
than  one  patrolman  had  handled  the  fisher 
man's  money. 

"Do  you  mean  to  say — "  Carmintel 
began,  in  a  bullying  tone. 

But  Charley  cut  him  off  shortly.  "  I  mean 
to  say  nothing,5"  he  said.  "You  heard  what 
I  said,  and  if  the  cap  fits,  why  - 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  Car 
mintel  glowered  at  him,  speechless. 

"What  we  want  is  imagination,"  Charley 
said  to  me  one  day,  when  we  had  attempted 
to  creep  upon  Big  Alec  in  the  gray  of  dawn 
and  had  been  shot  at  for  our  trouble. 

And  thereafter,  and  for  many  daj*s,  I 
cudgelled  my  brains  trying  to  imagine 
some  possible  way  by  which  two  men,  on 
an  open  stretch  of  water,  could  capture 
another  who  knew  how  to  use  a  rifle  and 


56     THE   KING   OF   THE   GREEKS 

was  never  to  be  found  without  one.  Regu 
larly,  every  slack  water,  without  slyness, 
boldly  and  openly  in  the  broad  day,  Big 
Alec  was  to  be  seen  running  his  line.  And 
what  made  it  particularly  exasperating  was 
the  fact  that  every  fisherman,  from  Benicia 
to  Vallejo,  knew  that  he  was  successfully 
defying  us.  Carmintel  also  bothered  us, 
for  he  kept  us  busy  among  the  shad-fishers 
of  San  Pablo,  so  that  we  had  little  time  to 
spare  on  the  King  of  the  Greeks.  But 
Charley's  wife  and  children  lived  at  Benicia, 
and  we  had  made  the  place  our  headquar 
ters,  so  that  we  always  returned  to  it. 

"I'll  tell  you  what  we  can  do/'  I  said, 
after  several  fruitless  weeks  had  passed; 
"we  can  wait  some  slack  water  till  Big 
Alec  has  run  his  line  and  gone  ashore  with 
the  fish,  and  then  we  can  go  out  and  cap 
ture  the  line.  It  will  put  him  to  time  and 


THE   KING   OF   THE   GREEKS     57 

expense  to  make  another,  and  then  we'll 
figure  to  capture  that  too.  If  we  can't  cap 
ture  him,  we  can  discourage  him,  you  see/* 

Charley  saw,  and  said  it  wasn't  a  bad 
idea.  We  watched  our  chance,  and  the 
next  low-water  slack,  after  Big  Alec  had 
removed  the  fish  from  the  line  and  returned 
ashore,  we  went  out  in  the  salmon  boat. 
We  had  the  bearings  of  the  line  from  shore 
marks,  and  we  knew  we  would  have  no 
difficulty  in  locating  it.  The  first  of  the 
flood  tide  was  setting  in,  when  we  ran  be 
low  where  we  thought  the  line  was  stretched 
and  dropped  over  a  fishing-boat  anchor. 
Keeping  a  short  rope  to  the  anchor,  so  that 
it  barely  touched  the  bottom,  we  dragged 
it  slowly  along  until  it  stuck  and  the  boat 
fetched  up  hard  and  fast. 

"We've  got  it,"  Charley  cried.  "Come 
on  and  lend  a  hand  to  get  it  in." 


58     THE    KING   OF   THE   GREEKS 

Together  we  hove  up  the  rope  till  the 
anchor  came  in  sight  with  the  sturgeon 
line  caught  across  one  of  the  flukes.  Scores 
of  the  murderous-looking  hooks  flashed  into 
sight  as  we  cleared  the  anchor,  and  we  had 
just  started  to  run  along  the  line  to  the  end 
where  we  could  begin  to  lift  it,  when  a 
sharp  thud  in  the  boat  startled  us.  We 
looked  about,  but  saw  nothing  and  returned 
to  our  work.  An  instant  later  there  was  a 
similar  sharp  thud  and  the  gunwale  splin 
tered  between  Charley's  body  and  mine, 

"That's  remarkably  like  a  bullet,  lad," 
he  said  reflectively.  "And  it's  a  long  shot 
Big  Alec's  making." 

"And  he's  using  smokeless  powder,"  he 
concluded,  after  an  examination  of  the 
mile-distant  shore.  "That's  why  we  can't 
hear  the  report." 

I  looked   at  the  shore,  but  could  see  no 


THE    KING   OF   THE    GREEKS     59 

sign  of  Big  Alec,  who  was  undoubtedly 
hidden  in  some  rocky  nook  with  us  at  his 
mercy.  A  third  bullet  struck  the  water, 
glanced,  passed  singing  over  our  heads, 
and  struck  the  water  again  beyond. 

"I  guess  we'd  better  get  out  of  this," 
Charley  remarked  coolly.  "What  do  you 
think,  lad?" 

I  thought  so,  too,  and  said  we  didn't 
want  the  line  anyway.  Whereupon  we  cast 
off  and  hoisted  the  spritsail.  The  bullets 
ceased  at  once,  and  we  sailed  away,  unpleas 
antly  confident  that  Big  Alec  was  laughing 
at  our  discomfiture. 

And  more  than  that,  the  next  day  on  the 
fishing  wharf,  where  we  were  inspecting 
nets,  he  saw  fit  to  laugh  and  sneer  at  us, 
and  this  before  all  the  fishermen.  Charley's 
face  went  black  with  anger;  but  beyond 
promising  Big  Alec  that  in  the  end  he  would 


60    THE   KING   OF   THE   GREEKS 

surely  land  him  behind  the  bars,  he  con 
trolled  himself  and  said  nothing.  The  King 
of  the  Greeks  made  his  boast  that  no  fish 
patrol  had  ever  taken  him  or  ever  could 
take  him,  and  the  fishermen  cheered  him 
and  said  it  was  true.  They  grew  excited, 
and  it  looked  like  trouble  for  a  while;  but 
Big  Alec  asserted  his  kingship  and  quelled 
them. 

Carmintel  also  laughed  at  Charley,  and 
dropped  sarcastic  remarks,  and  made  it 
hard  for  him.  But  Charley  refused  to  be 
angered,  though  he  told  me  in  confidence 
that  he  intended  to  capture  Big  Alec  if  it 
took  all  the  rest  of  his  life  to  accomplish  it. 

"I  don't  know  how  I'll  do  it,"  he  said, 
"but  do  it  I  will,  as  sure  as  I  am  Charley 
Le  Grant.  The  idea  will  come  to  me  at 
the  right  and  proper  time,  never  fear." 

And  at  the  right  time  it  came,  and  most 


THE    KING   OF   THE    GREEKS     61 

unexpectedly.  Fully  a  month  had  passed, 
and  we  were  constantly  up  and  down  the 
river,  and  down  and  up  the  bay,  with  no 
spare  moments  to  devote  to  the  particular 
fisherman  who  ran  a  Chinese  line  in  the 
bight  of  Turner's  Shipyard.  We  had  called 
in  at  Selby's  Smelter  one  afternoon,  while 
on  patrol  work,  when  all  unknown  to  us 
our  opportunity  happened  along.  It  ap 
peared  in  the  guise  of  a  helpless  yacht  loaded 
with  seasick  people,  so  we  could  hardly  be 
expected  to  recognize  it  as  the  opportunity. 
It  was  a  large  sloop-yacht,  and  it  was  help 
less  inasmuch  as  the  trade-wind  was  blowing 
half  a  gale  and  there  were  no  capable  sailors 
aboard. 

From  the  w^harf  at  Selby's  we  watched 
with  careless  interest  the  lubberly  manoeu 
vre  performed  of  bringing  the  yacht  to 
anchor,  and  the  equally  lubberly  manoeuvre 


•62     THE    KING   OF   THE   GREEKS 

of  sending  the  small  boat  ashore.  A  very 
miserable-looking  man  in  draggled  ducks, 
after  nearly  swamping  the  boat  in  the  heavy 
seas,  passed  us  the  painter  and  climbed 
out.  He  staggered  about  as  though  the 
wharf  were  rolling,  and  told  us  his  troubles, 
which  were  the  troubles  of  the  yacht.  The 
only  rough-weather  sailor  aboard,  the  man 
on  whom  they  all  depended,  had  been  called 
back  to  San  Francisco  by  a  telegram,  and 
they  had  attempted  to  continue  the  cruise 
alone.  The  high  wind  and  big  seas  of  San 
Pablo  Bay  had  been  too  much  for  them; 
all  hands  were  sick,  nobody  knew  any 
thing  or  could  do  anything;  and  so  they 
had  run  in  to  the  smelter  either  to  desert 
the  yacht  or  to  get  somebody  to  bring  it 
to  Benicia.  In  short,  did  we  know  of 
any  sailors  who  would  bring  the  yacht  into 
Benicia  ? 


THE    KING   OF   THE    GREEKS     63 

Charley  looked  at  me.  The  Reindeer 
was  lying  in  a  snug  place.  We  had  noth 
ing  on  hand  in  the  way  of  patrol  work  till 
midnight.  With  the  wind  then  blowing, 
we  could  sail  the  yacht  into  Benicia  in  a 
couple  of  hours,  have  several  more  hours 
ashore,  and  come  back  to  the  smelter  on 
the  evening  train. 

"Ail  right,  captain,"  Charley  said  to  the 
disconsolate  yachtsman,  who  smiled  in  sickly 
fashion  at  the  title. 

"I'm  only  the  owner,"  he  explained. 

We  rowed  him  aboard  in  much  better 
style  than  he  had  come  ashore,  and  saw  for 
ourselves  the  helplessness  of  the  passengers. 
There  were  a  dozen  men  and  women,  and 
all  of  them  too  sick  even  to  appear  grateful 
at  our  "coming.  The  yacht  was  rolling 
savagely,  broad  on,  and  no  sooner  had  the 
owner's  feet  touched  the  deck  than  he  col- 


64     THE    KING   OF   THE   GREEKS 

lapsed  and  joined  the  others.  Not  one 
was  able  to  bear  a  hand,  so  Charley  and  I 
between  us  cleared  the  badly  tangled  running 
gear,  got  up  sail,  and  hoisted  anchor. 

It  was  a  rough  trip,  though  a  swift  one. 
The  Carquinez  Straits  were  a  welter  of 
foam  and  smother,  and  we  came  through 
them  wildly  before  the  wind,  the  big  main 
sail  alternately  dipping  and  flinging  its 
boom  skyward  as  we  tore  along.  But  the 
people  did  not  mind.  They  did  not  mind 
anything.  Two  or  three,  including  the 
owner,  sprawled  in  the  cockpit,  shudder 
ing  when  the  yacht  lifted  and  raced  and 
sank  dizzily  into  the  trough,  and  between- 
whiles  regarding  the  shore  with  yearning 
eyes.  The  rest  were  huddled  on  the  cabin 
floor  among  the  cushions.  Now  and  again 
some  one  groaned,  but  for  the  most  part 
they  were  as  limp  as  so  many  dead  persons 


THE    KING   OF   THE    GREEKS     65 

As  the  bight  at  Turner's  Shipyard  opened 
out,  Charley  edged  into  it  to  get  the 
smoother  water.  Be'nicia  was  in  view,  and 
we  were  bowling  along  over  comparatively 
easy  water,  when  a  speck  of  a  boat  danced 
up  ahead  of  us,  directly  in  our  course.  It 
was  low-water  slack.  Charley  and  I  looked 
at  each  other.  No  word  was  spoken,  but 
at  once  the  yacht  began  a  most  astonishing 
performance,  veering  and  yawing  as  though 
the  greenest  of  amateurs  was  at  the  wheel. 
It  was  a  sight  for  sailormen  to  see.  To  all 
appearances,  a  runaway  yacht  was  career 
ing  madly  over  the  bight,  and  now  and 
again  yielding  a  little  bit  to  control  in  a 
desperate  effort  to  make  Benicia. 

The  owner  forgot  his  seasickness  long 
enough  to  look  anxious.  The  speck  of  a 
boat  grew  larger  and  larger,  till  we  could 
see  Big  Alec  and  his  partner,  with  a  turn 


66     THE    KING    OF   THE    GREEKS 

of  the  sturgeon  line  around  a  cleat,  resting 
from  their  labor  to  laugh  at  us.  Charley 
pulled  his  sou'wester  over  his  eyes,  and  I 
followed  his  example,  though  T  could  not 
guess  the  idea  he  evidently  had  in  mind  and 
intended  to  carry  into  execution. 

We  came  foaming  down  abreast  of  the  skifr^ 
so  close  that  we  could  hear  above  the  wind  the 
voices  of  Big  Alec  and  his  mate  as  they 
shouted  at  us  with  all  the  scorn  that  profes 
sional  watermen  feel  for  amateurs,  especially 
when  amateurs  are  making  fools  of  themselves. 

We  thundered  on  past  the  fishermen,  and 
nothing  had  happened.  Charley  grinned 
at  the  disappointment  he  saw  in  my  face, 
and  then  shouted : 

"Stand  by  the  main-sheet  to  jibe!" 

He  put  the  wheel  hard  over,  and  the 
yacht  whirled  around  obediently.  The 
main-sheet  slacked  and  dipped,  then  shot 


THE    KING   OF   THE   GREEivS     67 

over  our  heads  after  the  boom  and  tautened 
with  a  crash  on  the  traveller.  The  yacht 
heeled  over  almost  on  her  beam  ends,  and 
a  great  wail  went  up  from  the  seasick  pas 
sengers  as  they  swept  across  the  cabin  floor 
in  a  tangled  mass  and  piled  into  a  heap  in 
the  starboard  bunks. 

But  we  had  no  time  for  them.  The 
yacht,  completing  the  manoeuvre,  headed 
into  the  wind  with  slatting  canvas,  and 
righted  to  an  even  keel.  We  were  st: 
plunging  ahead,  and  directly  in  our  pati. 
was  the  skiff.  I  saw  Big  Alec  dive  over 
board  and  his  mate  leap  for  our  bowsprit. 
Then  came  the  crash  as  we  struck  the  boat, 
and  a  series  of  grinding  bumps  as  it  passed 
under  our  bottom. 

"That  fixes  his  rifle,"  I  heard  Charley 
mutter,  as  he  sprang  upon  the  deck  to  look 
for  Big  Alec  somewhere  astern. 


68     THE    KING   OF   THE    GREL.CS 

The  wind  and  sea  quickly  stopped  our 
forward  movement,  and  we  began  to  drift 
backward  over  the  spot  where  the  skiff  had 
been.  Big  Alec's  black  head  and  swarthy 
face  popped  up  within  arm's  reach;  and 
all  unsuspecting  and  very  angry  with  what 
he  took  to  be  the  clumsiness  of  amateur 
sailors,  he  was  hauled  aboard.  Also  he 
was  out  of  breath,  for  he  had  dived 
deep  and  stayed  down  long  to  escape  our 
keel. 

The  next  instant,  to  the  perplexity  and 
consternation  of  the  owner,  Charley  was  on 
top  of  Big  Alec  in  the  cockpit,  and  I  was 
helping  bind  him  with  gaskets.  The  owner 
was  dancing  excitedly  about  and  demand 
ing  an  explanation,  but  by  that  time  Big 
Alec's  partner  had  crawled  aft  from  the 
bowsprit  and  was  peering  apprehensively 
over  the  rail  into  the  cockpit.  Charley's 


THE    KING    OF   THE    GREEKS     69 

arm  shot  around  his  neck  and  the  man 
landed  on  his  back  beside  Big  Alec. 

"  More  gaskets  ! "  Charley  shouted,  and 
I  made  haste  to  supply  them. 

The  wrecked  skiff  was  rolling  sluggishly 
a  short  distance  to  windward,  and  I  trimmed 
the  sheets  while  Charley  took  the  wheel 
and  steered  for  it. 

"These  two  men  are  old  offenders,"  he 
explained  to  the  angry  owner;  "and  they 
are  most  persistent  violators  of  the  fish  and 
game  laws.  You  have  seen  them  caught 
in  the  act,  and  you  may  expect  to  be  sub 
poenaed  as  witness  for  the  state  when  the 
trial  comes  off." 

As  he  spoke  he  rounded  alongside  the 
skiff.  It  had  been  torn  from  the  line,  a 
section  of  which  was  dragging  to  it.  He 
hauled  in  forty  or  fifty  feet  with  a  young 
sturgeon  still  fast  in  a  tangle  of  barbless. 


70    THE   KING  OF  THE   GREEKS 

hooks,  slashed  that  much  of  the  line  free 
with  his  knife,  and  tossed  it  into  the  cockpit 
beside  the  prisoners. 

"And  there's  the  evidence,  Exhibit  A,  for 
the  people,"  Charley  continued.  "Look  it 
over  carefully  so  that  you  may  identify  it 
in  the  court-room  with  the  time  and  place 
of  capture." 

And  then,  in  triumph,  with  no  more 
veering  and  yawing,  we  sailed  into  Benicia, 
the  King  of  the  Greeks  bound  hard  and 
fast  in  the  cockpit,  and  for  the  first  time  in 
his  life  a  prisoner  of  the  fish  patrol. 


Ill 

A  RAID   ON  THE   OYSTER 
PIRATES 


A   RAID   ON   THE   OYSTER 
PIRATES 

OF  the  fish  patrolmen  under  whom 
we  served  at  various  times,  Charley 
Le  Grant  and  I  were  agreed,  I 
think,  that  Neil  Partington  was  the  best. 
He  was  neither  dishonest  nor  cowardly;  and 
while  he  demanded  strict  obedience  when  we 
were  under  his  orders,  at  the  same  time  our 
relations  were  those  of  easy  comradeship, 
and  he  permitted  us  a  freedom  to  which  we 
were  ordinarily  unaccustomed,  as  the  present 
story  will  show. 

NeiPs  family  lived  in  Oakland,  which  is 
on  the  Lower  Bay,  not  more  than  six  miles 
across  the  water  from  San  Francisco.  One 
day,  while  scouting  among  the  Chinese 
shrimp-catchers  of  Point  Pedro,  he  received 
73 


74     A  RAID  ON  OYSTER  PIRATES 

word  that  his  wife  was  very  ill;  and 
within  the  hour  the  Reindeer  was  bowling 
along  for  Oakland,  with  a  stiff  northwest 
breeze  astern.  We  ran  up  the  Oakland 
Estuary  and  came  to  anchor,  and  in  the 
days  that  followed,  while  Neil  was  ashore, 
we  tightened  up  the  Reindeer  s  rigging, 
overhauled  the  ballast,  scraped  down,  and 
put  the  sloop  into  thorough  shape. 

This  done,  time  hung  heavy  on  our 
hands.  Neil's  wife  was  dangerously  ill,  and 
the  outlook  was  a  week's  lie-over,  awaiting 
the  crisis.  Charley  and  I  roamed  the  docks, 
wondering  what  we  should  do,  and  so  came 
upon  the  oyster  fleet  lying  at  the  Oakland 
City  Wharf.  In  the  main  they  were  trim, 
natty  boats,  made  for  speed  and  bad  weather, 
and  we  sat  down  on  the  stringer-piece  of 
the  dock  to  study  them. 

"A  good  catch,   I    guess/'  Charley  said, 


A  RAID  ON  OYSTER  PIRATES     75 

pointing  to  the  heaps  of  oysters,  assorted 
in  three  sizes,  which  lay  upon  their  decks. 

Pedlers  were  backing  their  wagons  to 
the  edge  of  the  wharf,  and  from  the  bar 
gaining  and  chaffering  that  went  on,  I 
managed  to  learn  the  selling  price  of  the 
oysters. 

"That  boat  must  have  at  least  two  hun 
dred  dollars'  worth  aboard,"  I  calculated. 
"I  wonder  how  long  it  took  to  get  the 
load?" 

"Three  or  four  days,"  Charley  answered. 
"Not  bad  wages  for  two  men  —  twenty- 
five  dollars  a  day  apiece." 

The  boat  we  were  discussing,  the  Ghost, 
lay  directly  beneath  us.  Two  men  com 
posed  its  crew.  One  was  a  squat,  broad- 
shouldered  fellow  with  remarkably  long  and 
gorilla-like  arms,  while  the  other  was  tali 
and  well  proportioned,  with  clear  blue  eyes 


76     A  RAID  ON  OYSTER  PIRATES 

and  a  mat  of  straight  black  hair.  So  un 
usual  and  striking  was  this  combination  of 
hair  and  eyes  that  Charley  and  I  remained 
somewhat  longer  than  we  intended. 

And  it  was  well  that  we  Ald.  A  stout, 
elderly  man,  with  the  dress  and  carriage  of 
a  successful  merchant,  came  up  and  stood 
beside  us,  looking  down  upon  the  deck  of 
the  Ghost.  He  appeared  angry,  and  the 
longer  he  looked  the  angrier  he  grew. 

'* Those  are  my  oysters/'  he  said  at  last. 
44 1  know  they  are  my  oysters.  You  raided 
my  beds  last  night  and  robbed  me  of  them." 

The  tall  man  and  the  short  man  on  the 
Ghost  looked  up. 

"Hello,  Taft,"  the  short  man  said,  with 
insolent  familiarity.  (Among  the  bay  fare  rs 
he  had  gained  the  nickname  of  "The  Cen 
tipede"  on  account  of  his  long  arms.) 
"  Hello,  Taft,"  he  repeated,  with  the  same 


A  RAID  ON  OYSTER  PIRATES     77 

touch  of  insolence.  "Wot  'r  you  growlin* 
about  now  ?" 

"Those  are  my  oysters  —  that's  what  I 
said.  You've  stolen  them  from  my  beds." 

"Yer  mighty  w^ise,  ain't  ye?"  was  the 
Centipede's  sneering  reply.  "S'pose  you 
can  tell  your  oysters  wherever  you  see  'em  ? " 

'"Now,  in  my  experience,"  broke  in  the 
tall  man,  "oysters  is  oysters  wherever  you 
find  'em,  an'  they're  pretty  much  alike  all 
the  Bay  over,  and  the  world  over,  too,  for 
chat  matter.  We're  not  wantin'  to  quarrel 
with  you,  Mr.  Taft,  but  we  jes'  wish  you 
wouldn't  insinuate  that  them  oysters  is 
yours  an'  that  we're  thieves  an'  robbers  till 
you  can  prove  the  goods." 

"I  know  they're  mine;  I'd  stake  my 
life  on  it!"  Mr.  Taft  snorted. 

"Prove  it,"  challenged  the  tall  man, 
who  we  afterward  learned  was  known  as 


78     A  RAID  ON  OYSTER  PIRATES 

'"'The  Porpoise"  because  of  his  wonderful 
swimming  abilities. 

Mr.  Taft  shrugged  his  shoulders  help 
lessly.  Of  course  ha  could  not  prove  the 
oysters  to  be  his,  no  matter  how  certain 
he  might  be. 

"I'd  give  a  thousand  dollars  to  have 
you  men  behind  the  bars!"  he  cried.  "I'll 
give  fifty  dollars  a  head  for  your  arrest  and 
conviction,  all  of  you!" 

A  roar  of  laughter  went  up  from  the 
different  boats,  for  the  rest  of  the  pirates 
had  been  listening  to  the  discussion. 

"There's  more  money  in  oysters,"  the 
Porpoise  remarked  dryly. 

Mr.  Taft  turned  impatiently  on  his  heel 
and  walked  away.  From  out  of  the  corner 
of  his  eye,  Charley  noted  the  way  he  went. 
Several  minutes  later,  when  he  had  dis 
appeared  around  a  corner,  Charley  rose 


A  RAID  ON  OYSTER  PIRATES     79 

lazily  to  his  feet.  I  followed  him,  and  we 
sauntered  off  in  the  opposite  direction  to 
that  taken  by  Mr.  Taft. 

"Come  on!  Lively!"  Charley  whispered, 
when  we  passed  from  the  view  of  the  oyster 
fleet. 

Our  course  was  changed  a:  once,  and 
we  dodged  around  corners  and  raced  up 
and  down  side-streets  till  Mr.Taft's  generous 
form  loomed  up  ahead  of  us. 

"I'm  going  to  interview  him  about  that 
reward,"  Charley  explained,  as  we  rapidly 
overhauled  the  oyster-bed  owner.  "Neil  will 
be  delayed  here  for  a  week,  and  you  and  I 
might  as  well  be  doing  something  in  the 
meantime.  What  do  you  say?" 

"Of  course,  of  course,"  Mr.  Taft  said, 
when  Charley  had  introduced  himself  and 
explained  his  errand.  "Those  thieves  are 
robbing  me  of  thousands  of  dollars  every 


So    A  RAID  ON  OYSTER  PIRATES 

year,  and  I  shall  be  glad  to  break  them 
up  at  any  price, — yes,  sir,  at  any  price.  As 
I  said,  I'll  give  fifty  dollars  a  head,  and 
call  it  cheap  at  that.  They've  robbed  my 
beds,  torn  down  my  signs,  terrorized  my 
watchmen,  and  last  year  killed  one  of  them. 
Couldn't  prove  it.  All  done  in  the  black 
ness  of  mght.  All  I  had  was  a  dead  watch 
man  and  no  evidence.  The  detectives  could 
do  nothing.  Nobody  has  been  able  to  do 
anything  with  those  men.  We  have  never 
succeeded  in  arresting  one  of  them.  So  I 
say,  Mr.  —  What  did  you  say  your  name 
was?" 

"Le  Grant,"  Charley  answered. 

"So  I  say,  Mr.  Le  Grant,  I  am  deeply 
obliged  to  you  for  the  assistance  you  offer. 
And  I  shall  be  glad,  most  glad,  sir,  to  co 
operate  with  you  in  every  way.  My  watch 
men  and  boats  are  at  your  disposal.  Come 


A  RAID  ON  OYSTER  PIRATES     81 

and  see  me  at  the  San  Francisco  offices 
any  time,  or  telephone  at  my  expense.  And 
don't  be  afraid  of  spending  money.  I'll 
foot  /our  expenses,  whatever  they  are,  so 
long  as  they  are  within  reason.  The  situa 
tion  is  growing  desperate,  and  something 
must  be  done  to  determine  whether  I  or 
that  band  of  ruffians  own  those  oyster 
beds." 

"Now  well  see  Neil/'  Charley  said, 
when  he  had  seen  Mr.  Taft  upon  his  train 
to  San  Francisco. 

Not  only  did  Neil  Partington  interpose 
no  obstacle  to  our  adventure,  but  he  proved 
to  be  of  the  greatest  assistance.  Charley 
and  I  knew  nothing  of  the  oyster  industry, 
while  his  head  was  an  encyclopaedia  of 
facts  concerning  it.  Also,  within  an  hour 
or  so,  he  was  able  to  bring  to  us  a  Greek 
boy  of  seventeen  or  eighteen  who  knew 


82     A  RAID  ON  OYSTER  PIRATES 

thoroughly  well  the  ins  and  outs  of  oyster 
piracy. 

At  this  point  I  may  as  well  explain  that 
we  of  the  fish  patrol  were  free  lances  in  a 
way.  While  Neil  Partington,  who  was  a 
patrolman  proper,  received  a  regular  salary, 
Charley  and  I,  being  merely  deputies,  re 
ceived  only  what  we  earned  —  that  is  to 
say,  a  certain  percentage  of  the  fines  im 
posed  on  convicted  violators  of  the  fish 
laws.  Also,  any  rewards  that  chanced  our 
way  were  ours.  We  offered  to  share  with 
Partington  whatever  we  should  get  from 
Mr.  Taft,  but  the  patrolman  would  not 
hear  of  it.  He  was  only  too  happy,  he 
said,  to  do  a  good  turn  for  us,  who  had 
done  so  many  for  him. 

We  held  a  long  council  of  war,  and 
mapped  out  the  following  line  of  action. 
Our  faces  were  unfamiliar  on  the  Lower 


A  RAID  ON  OYSTER  PIRATES     83 

Bay,  but  as  the  Reindeer  was  well  known 
as  a  fish-patrol  sloop,  the  Greek  boy,  whose 
name  was  Nicholas,  and  I  were  to  sail  some 
innocent-looking  craft  down  to  Asparagus 
Island  and  join  the  oyster  pirates'  fleet. 
Here,  according  to  Nicholas's  description 
of  the  beds  and  the  manner  of  raiding,  it 
was  possible  for  us  to  catch  the  pirates  in 
the  act  of  stealing  oysters,  and  at  the  same 
time  to  get  them  in  our  power.  Charley 
was  to  be  on  the  shore,  with  Mr.  TafVs 
watchmen  and  a  posse  of  constables,  to 
help  us  at  the  right  time. 

"I  know  just  the  boat,"  Neil  said,  at  the 
conclusion  of  the  discussion,  "a  crazy  old 
sloop  that's  lying  over  at  Tiburon.  You 
and  Nicholas  can  go  over  by  the  ferry, 
charter  it  for  a  song,  and  sail  direct  for  the 
beds." 

"Good  luck  be  with  you,  boys,"  he  said 


84     A  RAID  ON  OYSTER  PIRATES 

at  parting,  two  days  later.  "Remember, 
they  are  dangerous  men,  so  be  careful." 

Nicholas  and  I  succeeded  in  chartering 
the  sloop  very  cheaply;  and  between  laughs, 
while  getting  up  sail,  we  agreed  that  she 
was  even  crazier  and  older  than  she  had 
been  described.  She  was  a  big,  flat-bot 
tomed,  square-sterned  craft,  sloop-rigged^ 
with  a  sprung  mast,  slack  rigging,  dilapi 
dated  sails,  and  rotten  running-gear,  clumsy 
to  handle  and  uncertain  in  bringing  about, 
and  she  smelled  vilely  of  coal  tar,  with 
which  strange  stuff  she  had  been  smeared 
from  stem  to  stern  and  from  cabin-roof  to 
centreboard.  And  to  cap  it  all,  Coal  Tar 
Maggie  was  printed  in  great  white  letters 
the  whole  length  of  either  side. 

It  was  an  uneventful  though  laughable 
run  from  Tiburon  to  Asparagus  Island,, 
where  we  arrived  in  the  afternoon  of  the- 


A  RAID  ON  OYSTER  PIRATES     8j 

following  day.  The  oyster  pirates,  a  fleet 
of  a  dozen  sloops,  were  lying  at  anchor  on 
what  was  known  as  the  "Deserted  Beds." 
The  Coal  Tar  Maggie  came  sloshing  into 
their  midst  with  a  light  breeze  astern,  and 
they  crowded  on  deck  to  see  us.  Nicholas 
and  I  had  caught  the  spirit  cf  ihe  crazy 
craft,  and  we  handled  her  in  most  lubberly 
fashion. 

"Wot  is  it?"    some  one  called. 

"Name  it  V  ye  kin  have  it!"  called 
another. 

"I  swan  naow,  ef  t  ain't  the  old  Ark 
itself!"  mimicked  the  Centipede  from  the 
deck  of  the  Ghost. 

if  Hey !  Ahoy  there,  clipper  ship  ! "  an 
other  wag  shouted.  "Wot's  yer  port?" 

We  took  no  notice  of  the  joking,  but 
acted,  after  the  manner  of  greenhorns,  as 
though  the  Coal  Tar  Maggie  required  our 


86     A  RAID  ON  OYSTER  PIRATES 

undivided  attention.  I  rounded  her  well  to 
windward  of  the  Ghost,  and  Nicholas  ran 
for'ard  to  drop  the  anchor.  To  all  ap 
pearances  it  was  a  bungle,  the  way  the 
chain  tangled  and  kept  the  anchor  from 
reaching  the  bottom.  And  to  all  appear 
ances  Nicholas  and  I  were  terribly  excited 
as  we  strove  to  clear  it.  At  any  rate,  we 
quite  deceived  the  pirates,  who  took  huge 
delight  in  our  predicament. 

But  the  chain  remained  tangled,  and 
amid  all  kir.:\.  -f  mocking  advice  we  drifted 
down  upon  and  fouled  the  Ghost,  whose 
bowsprit  poked  square  through  our  main 
sail  and  ripped  a  hole  in  it  as  big  as  a  barn 
door.  The  Centipede  and  the  Porpoise 
doubled  up  on  the  cabin  in  paroxysms  of 
laughter,  and  left  us  to  get  clear  as  best  we 
could.  This,  with  much  unseamanlike  per 
formance,  we  succeeded  in  doing,  and  like- 


A  RAID  ON  OYSTER  PIRATES     87 

wise  in  clearing  the  anchor-chain,  of  which 
we  let  out  about  three  hundred  feet.  With 
only  ten  feet  of  water  under  us,  this  would 
permit  the  Coal  Tar  Maggie  to  swing  in  a 
circle  six  hundred  feet  in  diameter,  in  which 
circle  she  would  be  able  to  foul  at  least  half 
the  fleet. 

The  oyster  pirates  lay  snugly  together  at 
short  hawsers,  the  weather  being  fine,  and 
they  protested  loudly  at  our  ignorance  in 
putting  out  such  an  unwarranted  length 
of  anchor-chain.  And  not  only  did  they 
protest,  for  they  made  us  heave  it  in  again, 
all  but  thirty  feet. 

Having  sufficiently  impressed  them  with 
our  general  lubberliness,  Nicholas  and  I 
went  below  to  congratulate  ourselves  and 
to  cook  supper.  Hardly  had  we  finished 
the  meal  and  washed  the  dishes,  when  a 
skiff  ground  against  the  Coal  *J  ar  Maggie's 


88     A  RAID  ON  OYSTER  PIRATES 

side,  and  heavy  feet  trampled  on  deck. 
Then  the  Centipede's  brutal  face  appeared 
in  the  companionway,  and  he  descended 
into  the  cabin,  followed  by  the  Porpoise. 
Before  they  could  seat  themselves  on  a  bunk, 
another  skiff  came  alongside,  and  another, 
and  another,  till  the  whole  fleet  was  repre 
sented  by  the  gathering  in  the  cabin. 

"Where'd  you  swipe  the  old  tub  ?"  asked 
a  squat  and  hairy  man,  with  cruel  eyes  and 
Mexican  features. 

"Didn't  swipe  it,"  Nicholas  answered, 
meeting  them  on  their  own  ground  and 
encouraging  the  idea  that  we  had  stolen  the 
Coal  Tar  Maggie.  "And  if  we  did,  what 
of  it  ?" 

"Well,  I  don't  admire  your  taste,  that's 
all,"  sneered  he  of  the  Mexican  features. 
"I'd  rot  on  the  beach  first  before  I'd  take 
a  tub  that  couldn't  get  out  of  its  own  way." 


A  RAID  ON  OYSTER  PIRATES     89 

"How  were  we  to  know  till  we  tried  her  ?" 
Nicholas  asked,  so  innocently  as  to  cause  a 
laugh,  "And  how  do  you  get  the  oysters  ?"" 
he  hurried  on.  "We  want  a  load  of  them^ 
that's  what  we  came  for,  a  load  of  oysters." 

"What  d'ye  want  'em  for?"  demanded 
the  Porpoise. 

"Oh,  to  give  away  to  our  friends,  of 
course,'5  Nicholas  retorted.  "That's  what 
you  do  with  yours,  I  suppose." 

This  started  another  laugh,  and  as  our 
visitors  grew  more  genial  we  could  see  that 
they  had  not  the  slightest  suspicion  of  our 
identity  or  purpose. 

"Didn't  I  see  you  on  the  dock  in  Oak 
land  the  other  day?"  the  Centipede  asked 
suddenly  of  me. 

"Yep,"  I  answered  boldly,  taking  the 
bull  by  the  horns.  "I  was  watching  you 
fellows  and  figuring  out  whether  we'd  go 


9o     A  RAID  ON  OYSTER  PIRATES 

oystering  or  not.  It's  a  pretty  good  busi 
ness,  I  calculate,  and  so  we're  going  in  for 
it.  That  is,"  I  hastened  to  add,  "if  you 
fellows  don't  mind." 

"I'll  tell  you  one  thing,  which  ain't  two 
things,"  he  replied,  "and  that  is  you'll 
have  to  hump  yerself  an'  get  a  better  boat. 
We  won't  stand  to  be  disgraced  by  any  such 
box  as  this.  Understand  ?" 

"Sure,"  I  said.  "Soon  as  we  sell  some 
oysters  we'll  outfit  in  style." 

"And  if  you  show  yerself  square  an'  the 
right  sort,"  he  went  on,  "why,  you  kin 
run  with  us.  But  if  you  don't"  (here  his 
voice  became  stern  and  menacing),  "why, 
it'll  be  the  sickest  day  of  yer  life.  Under 
stand  ?" 

"Sure,"  I  said. 

After  that  and  more  warning  and  advice 
of  similar  nature,  the  conversation  became 


A  RAID  ON  OYSTER  PIRATES     9i 

general,  and  we  learned  that  the  beds  were 
to  be  raided  that  very  night.  As  they  got 
into  their  boats,  after  an  hour's  stay,  we 
were  invited  to  join  them  in  the  raid  with 
the  assurance  of  "the  more  the  merrier." 

"Did  you  notice  that  short,  Mexican- 
looking  chap  ?"  Nicholas  asked,  when  they 
had  departed  to  their  various  sloops.  "He's 
Barchi,  of  the  Sporting  Life  Gang,  and 
the  fellow  that  came  with  him  is  Skilling. 
They're  both  out  now  on  five  thousand 
dollars'  bail." 

I  had  heard  of  the  Sporting  Life  Gang 
before,  a  crowd  of  hoodlums  and  criminals 
that  terrorized  the  lower  quarters  of  Oak 
land,  and  two-thirds  of  which  were  usually 
to  be  found  in  state's  prison  for  crimes  that 
ranged  from  perjury  and  ballot-box  stuffing 
to  murder. 

"They    are    not    regular    oyster    pirates," 


.92     A  RAID  ON  OYSTER  PIRATES 

Nicholas  continued.  "They've  just  come 
down  for  the  lark  and  to  make  a  few  dollars. 
But  we'll  have  to  watch  out  for  them." 

We  sat  in  the  cockpit  and  discussed  the 
details  of  our  plan  till  eleven  o'clock  had 
passed,  when  we  heard  the  rattle  of  an  oar 
in  a  boat  from  the  direction  of  the  Ghost. 
We  hauled  up  our  own  skiff,  tossed  in  a  few 
sacks,  and  rowed  over.  There  we  found 
all  the  skiffs  assembling,  it  being  the  in 
tention  to  raid  the  beds  in  a  body. 

To  my  surprise,  I  found  barely  a  foot  of 
water  where  we  had  dropped  anchor  in  ten 
feet.  It  was  the  big  June  run-out  of  the 
full  moon,  and  as  the  ebb  had  yet  an  hour 
and  a  half  to  run,  I  knew  that  our  anchorage 
would  be  dry  ground  before  slack  water. 

Mr.  Taft's  beds  were  three  miles  away, 
and  for  a  long  time  we  rowed  silently  in  the 
wake  of  the  other  boats,  once  in  a  while 


A  RAID  ON  OYSTER  PIRATES     93 

grounding  and  our  oar  blades  constantly 
striking  bottom.  At  last  we  came  upon 
soft  mud  covered  with  not  more  than  two 
inches  of  water  —  not  enough  to  float  the 
boats.  But  the  pirates  at  once  were  over 
the  side,  and  by  pushing  and  pulling  on 
the  flat-bottomed  skiffs,  we  moved  steadily 
along. 

The  full  moon  was  partly  obscured  by 
high-flying  clouds,  but  the  pirates  went 
their  way  with  the  familiarity  born  of  long 
practice.  After  half  a  mile  of  the  mud, 
we  came  upon  a  deep  channel,  up  which 
we  rowed,  with  dead  oyster  shoals  looming 
high  and  dry  on  either  side.  At  last  we 
reached  the  picking  grounds.  Two  men, 
on  one  of  the  shoals,  hailed  us  and  warned 
'  us  off.  But  the  Centipede,  the  Porpoise, 
Barchi,  and  Skilling  took  the  lead,  and  fol 
lowed  by  the  rest  of  us,  at  least  thirty  men 


94     A  RAID  ON  OYSTER  PIRATES 

in  half  as  many  boats,  rowed  right  up  to 
the  watchmen. 

"You'd  better  slide  outa  this  here," 
Barchi  said  threateningly,  "or  we'll  fill 
you  so  full  of  holes  you  wouldn't  float  in 
molasses." 

The  watchmen  wisely  retreated  before  so 
overwhelming  a  force,  and  rowed  their 
boat  along  the  channel  toward  where  the 
shore  should  be.  Besides,  it  was  in  the 
plan  for  them  to  retreat. 

We  hauled  the  noses  of  the  boats  up  on 
the  shore  side  of  a  big  shoal,  and  all  hands, 
with  sacks,  spread  out  and  began  picking. 
Every  now  and  again  the  clouds  thinned 
before  the  face  of  the  moon,  and  we  could 
see  the  big  oysters  quite  distinctly.  In  al 
most  no  time  sacks  were  filled  and  carried 
back  to  the  boats,  where  fresh  ones  were 
obtained.  Nicholas  and  I  returned  often 


A  RAID  ON  OYSTER  PIRATES     95 

and  anxiously  to  the  boats  with  our  little 
loads,  but  always  found  some  one  of  the 
pirates  coming  or  going. 

"Never  mind,"  he  said;  "no  hurry.  As 
they  pick  farther  and  farther  away,  it  will 
take  too  long  to  carry  to  the  boats.  Then 
they'll  stand  the  full  sacks  on  end  and  pick 
them  up  when  the  tide  comes  in  and  the 
skiffs  will  float  to  them." 

Fully  half  an  hour  went  by,  and  the  tide 
had  begun  to  flood,  when  this  came  to  pass. 
Leaving  the  pirates  at  their  work,  we  stole 
back  to  the  boats.  One  by  one,  and  noise 
lessly,  we  shoved  them  off  and  made  them 
fast  in  an  awkward  flotilla.  Just  as  we 
were  shoving  off  the  last  skifF,  our  own,  one 
of  the  men  came  upon  us.  It  was  Barchi. 
His  quick  eye  took  in  the  situation  at  a 
glance,  and  he  sprang  for  us;  but  we  went 
clear  with  a  mighty  shove,  and  he  was  left 


96     A  RAID  ON  OYSTER  PIRATES 

floundering  in  the  water  over  his  head. 
As  soon  as  he  got  back  to  the  shoal  he  raised 
his  voice  and  gave  the  alarm. 

We  rowed  with  all  our  strength,  but  it 
was  slow  going  with  so  many  boats  in  tow. 
A  pistol  cracked  from  the  shoal,  a  second, 
and  a  third;  then  a  regular  fusillade  began. 
The  bullets  spat  and  spat  all  about  us; 
but  thick  clouds  had  covered  the  moon,  and 
in  the  dim  darkness  it  was  no  more  than 
random  firing.  It  was  only  by  chance 
that  wre  could  be  hit. 

"Wish  we  had  a  little  steam  launch,"  I 
panted. 

"I'd  just  as  soon  the  moon  stayed  hid 
den,"  Nicholas  panted  back. 

It  was  slow  work,  but  every  stroke  carried 
us  farther  away  from  the  shoal  and  nearer 
the  shore,  till  at  last  the  shooting  died  down, 
and  when  the  moon  did  come  out  we  were 


A  RAID  ON  OYSTER  PIRATES     97 

too  far  away  to  be  in  danger.  Not  long 
afterward  we  answered  a  shoreward  hail, 
and  twro  Whitehall  boats,  each  pulled  by 
three  pairs  of  oars,  darted  up  to  us.  Char 
ley's  welcome  face  bent  over  to  us,  and  he 
gripped  us  by  the  hands  while  he  cried, 
"Oh,  you  joys!  You  joys!  Both  of  you!" 

When  the  flotilla  had  been  landed,  Nicho 
las  and  I  and  a  watchman  rowed  out  in  one 
of  the  Whitehalls,  with  Charley  in  the  stern- 
sheets.  Two  other  Whitehalls  followed  us, 
and  as  the  moon  now  shone  brightly,  we 
easily  made  out  the  oyster  pirates  on  their 
lonely  shoal.  As  we  drew  closer,  they  fired 
a  rattling  volley  from  their  revolvers,  and 
we  promptly  retreated  beyond  range. 

"Lot  of  time,"  Charley  said.  "The  flood 
is  setting  in  fast,  and  by  the  time  it's  up  to 
their  necks  there  won't  be  any  fight  left 
in  them." 


98     A  RAID  ON  OYSTER  PIRATES 

So  we  lay  on  our  oars  and  waited  for  the 
tide  to  do  its  work.  This  was  the  pre 
dicament  of  the  pirates :  because  of  the 
big  run-out,  the  tide  was  now  rushing  back 
like  a  mill-race,  and  it  was  impossible  for 
the  strongest  swimmer  in  the  world  to  make 
against  it  the  three  miles  to  the  sloops. 
Between  the  pirates  and  the  shore  were  we, 
precluding  escape  in  that  direction.  On 
the  other  hand,  the  water  was  rising  rapidly 
over  the  shoals,  and  it  was  only  a  question 
of  a  few  hours  when  it  would  be  over  their 
heads. 

It  was  beautifully  calm,  and  in  the  brill 
iant  white  moonlight  we  watched  them 
through  our  night  glasses  and  told  Charley 
of  the  voyage  of  the  Coal  Tar  Maggie. 
One  o'clock  came,  and  two  o'clock,  and 
the  pirates  were  clustering  on  the  highest 
shoal,  waist-deep  in  water. 


A  RAID  ON  OYSTER  PIRATES     99 

"Now  this  illustrates  the  value  of  imagi 
nation,"  Charley  was  saying.  "Taft  has 
been  trying  for  years  to  get  them,  but  he 
went  at  it  with  bull  strength  and  failed. 
Now  we  used  our  heads  .  .  ." 

Just  then  I  heard  a  scarcely  audible 
gurgle  of  water,  and  holding  up  my  hand 
for  silence,  I  turned  and  pointed  to  a  ripple 
slowly  widening  out  in  a  growing  circle. 
It  was  not  more  than  fifty  feet  from  us. 
We  kept  perfectly  quiet  and  waited.  After 
a  minute  the  water  broke  six  feet  away, 
and  a  black  head  and  white  shoulder 
showed  in  the  moonlight.  With  a  snort  of 
surprise  and  of  suddenly  expelled  breath, 
the  head  and  shoulder  went  down. 

We  pulled  ahead  several  strokes  and 
drifted  with  the  current.  Four  pairs  of 
eyes  searched  the  surface  of  the  water, 
but  never  another  ripple  showed,  and  never 


ico   A  RAID  ON  OYSTER  PIRATES 

another  glimpse  did  we  catch  of  the  black 
head  and  white  shoulder. 

''It's  the  Porpoise,"  Nicholas  said,  "It 
would  take  broad  daylight  for  us  to  catch 
him." 

At  a  quarter  to  three  the  pirates  gave 
their  first  sign  of  weakening.  We  heard 
cries  for  help,  in  the  unmistakable  voice  of 
the  Centipede,  and  this  time,  on  rowing 
closer,  we  were  not  fired  upon.  The  Cen 
tipede  was  in  a  truly  perilous  plight.  Only 
the  heads  and  shoulders  of  his  fellow-ma 
rauders  showed  above  the  water  as  they 
braced  themselves  against  the  current,  while 
his  feet  were  off  the  bottom  and  they  were 
supporting  him. 

"Now,  lads,"  Charley  said  briskly;  "we 
have  got  you,  and  you  can't  get  away. 
If  you  cut  up  rough,  we'll  have  to  leave 
you  alone  and  the  water  will  finish  you. 


A  RAID  ON  OYSTER  PIRATES    101 

But  if  you're  good,  we'll  take  you  aboard, 
one  man  at  a  time,  and  you'll  all  be  saved. 
What  do  you  say?" 

"Ay,"  they  chorused  hoarsely  between 
their  chattering  teeth. 

"Then  one  man  at  a  time,  and  the  short 
men  first." 

The  Centipede  was  the  first  to  be  pulled 
aboard,  and  he  came  willingly,  though  he 
objected  when  the  constable  put  the  hand 
cuffs  on  him.  Barchi  was  next  hauled  in, 
quite  meek  and  resigned  from  his  soaking.* 
When  we  had  ten  in  our  boat  we  drew  backr 
and  the  second  Whitehall  was  loaded.  The 
third  Whitehall  received  nine  prisoners  only 
—  a  catch  of  twenty-nine  in  all. 

"You  didn't  get  the  Porpoise,"  the  Cen 
tipede  said  exultantly,  as  though  his  escape 
materially  diminished  our  success. 

Charley  laughed.     "But  we  saw  him  just 


102    A  RAID  ON  OYSTER  PIRATES 

the  same,  a-snorting  for  shore  like  a  puffing 

P^" 

It  was  a  mild  and  shivering  band  of  pi 
rates  that  we  marched  up  the  beach  to  the 
oyster  house.  In  answer  to  Charley's  knock, 
the  door  was  flung  open,  and  a  pleasant 
wave  of  warm  air  rushed  out  upon  us. 

"You  can  dry  your  clothes  here,  lads, 
and  get  some  hot  coffee,"  Charley  an 
nounced,  as  they  filed  in. 

And  there,  sitting  ruefully  by  the  fire, 
with  a  steaming  mug  in  his  hand,  was  the 
Porpoise.  With  one  accord  Nicholas  and 
I  looked  at  Charley.  He  laughed  gleefully. 

'"That  comes  of  imagination,"  he  said. 
"When  you  see  a  thing,  you've  got  to  see 
it  all  around,  or  what's  the  good  of  seeing 
it  at  all  ?  I  saw  the  beach,  so  I  left  a  couple 
of  constables  behind  to  keep  an  eye  on  it. 
That's  all." 


IV 

THE    SIEGE   OF   THE   "LAN 
CASHIRE   QUEEN" 


THE    SIEGE    OF   THE    "LAN 
CASHIRE   QUEEN" 

POSSIBLY  our  most   exasperating  ex 
perience  on  the  fish  patrol  was  when 
Charley  Le  Grant  and  I  laid  a  two 
weeks'   siege    to  a  big    four-masted    English 
ship.     Before  we  had  finished  with  the  affair, 
ic    became    a    pretty  mathematical   problem, 
and  it  was    by  the  merest    chance   that   we 
came  into  possession  of  the  instrument  that 
brought  it  to  a  successful  termination. 

After  our  raid  on  the  oyster  pirates  we 
had  returned  to  Oakland,  where  two  more 
weeks  passed  before  Neil  Partington's  wife' 
was  out  of  danger  and  on  the  highroad  to 
recovery.  So  it  was  after  an  absence  of  a 
month,  all  told,  that  we  turned  the  Rein- 
105 


io6   THE  "LANCASHIRE  QUEEN" 

Jeer's  nose  toward  Benicia.  When  the  cat's 
away  the  mice  will  play,  and  in  these  four 
weeks  the  fishermen  had  become  very  bold 
in  violating  the  law.  When  we  passed 
Point  Pedro  we  noticed  many  signs  of  ac 
tivity  among  the  shrimp-catchers,  and,  well 
into  San  Pablo  Bay,  we  observed  a  widely 
scattered  fleet  of  Upper  Bay  fishing-boats 
hastily  pulling  in  their  nets  and  getting  up 
sail. 

This  was  suspicious  enough  to  warrant 
investigation,  and  the  first  and  only  boat  we 
succeeded  in  boarding  proved  to  have  an 
illegal  net.  The  law  permitted  no  smaller 
mesh  for  catching  shad  than  one  that  meas 
ured  seven  and  one-half  inches  inside  the 
knots,  while  the  mesh  of  this  particular 
net  measured  only  three  inches.  It  was  a 
flagrant  breach  of  the  rules,  and  the  two 
fishermen  were  forthwith  put  under  arrest. 


THE  "LANCASHIRE  QUEEN"    107 

Neil  Partington  took  one  of  them  with  him 
to  help  manage  the  Reindeer,  while  Charley 
and  I  went  on  ahead  with  the  other  in  the 
captured  boat. 

But  the  shad  fleet  had  headed  over  to 
ward  the  Petaluma  shore  in  wild  flight, 
and  for  the  rest  of  the  run  through  San 
Pablo  Bay  we  saw  no  more  fishermen  at 
all.  Our  prisoner,  a  bronzed  and  bearded 
Greek,  sat  sullenly  on  his  net  while  we 
sailed  his  craft.  It  was  a  new  Columbia 
River  salmon  boat,  evidently  on  its  first 
trip,  and  it  handled  splendidly.  Even  when 
Charley  praised  it,  our  prisoner  refused  to 
speak  or  to  notice  us,  and  we  soon  gave  him 
up  as  a  most  unsociable  fellow. 

We  ran  up  the  Carquinez  Straits  and 
edged  into  the  bight  at  Turner's  Shipyard 
for  smoother  water.  Here  were  lying  sev 
eral  English  steel  sailing  ships,  waiting  for 


io8    THE  "LANCASHIRE  QUEEN" 

the   wheat   harvest;     and    here,    most   unex 
pectedly,    in    the    precise    place    where    we 
had  captured  Big  Alec,  we  came  upon  two 
Italians   in   a   skiff  that  was  loaded  with   a 
..complete  " Chinese"  sturgeon  line.     The  sur 
prise  was   mutual,  and  we  were  on  top  of 
them  before  either  they  or  we  were  aware. 
Charley    had    barely    time   to    luff  into    the 
wind  and  run   up  to  them.     I   ran  forward 
.and  tossed   them  a  line  with  orders  to  make 
it  fast.     One  of  the  Italians  took  a  turn  with 
-it  over  a  cleat,  while  I  hastened  to  lower  our 
.big  spritsail.     This  accomplished,  the  salmon 
boat    dropped    astern,   dragging    heavily    on 
rthe  skiff. 

Charley  came  forward  to  board  the  prize, 
but  when  I  proceeded  to  haul  alongside  by 
means  of  the  line,  the  Italians  cast  it  off. 
We  at  once  began  drifting  to  leeward,  while 
they  .got  out  two  pairs  of  oars  and  rowed 


THE  "LANCASHIRE  QUEEN"    109 

their  light  craft  directly  into  the  wind. 
This  manoeuvre  for  the  moment  discon 
certed  us,  for  in  our  large  and  heavily 
loaded  boat  we  could  not  hope  to  catch 
them  with  the  oars.  But  our  prisoner  came 
unexpectedly  to  our  aid.  His  black  eyes 
were  flashing  eagerly,  and  his  face  was 
flushed  with  suppressed  excitement,  as  he 
dropped  the  centreboard,  sprang  forward 
with  a  single  leap,  and  put  up  the  sail. 

"I've  always  heard  that  Greeks  don't 
like  Italians,"  Charley  laughed,  as  he  ran 
aft  to  the  tiller. 

And  never  in  my  experience  have  I  seen 
a  man  so  anxious  for  the  capture  of  another 
as  was  our  prisoner  in  the  chase  that  fol 
lowed.  His  eyes  fairly  snapped,  and  his 
nostrils  quivered  and  dilated  in  a  most  ex 
traordinary  way.  Charley  steered  while  he 
tended  the  sheet;  and  though  Charley  was 


no   THE  "LANCASHIRE  QUEEN" 

as  quick  and  alert  as  a  cat,  the  Greek  could 
hardly  control  his  impatience. 

The  Italians  were  cut  off  from  the  shore, 
which  was  fully  a  mile  away  at  its  near 
est  point.  Did  they  attempt  to  make  it, 
we  could  haul  after  them  with  the  wind 
abeam,  and  overtake  them  before  they  had 
covered  an  eighth  of  the  distance.  -  But 
they  were  too  wise  to  attempt  it,  contenting 
themselves  with  rowing  lustily  to  windward 
along  the  starboard  side  of  a  big  ship,  the 
Lancashire  Queen.  But  beyond  the  ship 
lay  an  open  stretch  of  fully  two  miles  to  the 
shore  in  that  direction.  This,  also,  they 
dared  not  attempt,  for  we  were  bound  to 
catch  them  before  they  could  cover  it.  So,, 
when  they  reached  the  bow  of  the  Lanca 
shire  Queen*  nothing  remained  but  to  pass, 
around  and  row  down  her  port  side  toward 
the  stern,  which  meant  rowing  to  leeward 
and  giving  us  the  advantage. 


THE  "LANCASHIRE  QUEEN"    in. 

We  in  the  salmon  boat,  sailing  close  on 
the  wind,  tacked  about  and  crossed  the 
ship's  bow.  Then  Charley  put  up  the  tiller 
^and  headed  down  the  port  side  of  the  ship, 
the  Greek  letting  out  the  sheet  and  grinning 
with  delight.  The  Italians  were  already 
half-way  down  the  ship's  length;  but  the 
stiff  breeze  at  our  back  drove  us  after  them 
far  faster  than  they  could  row.  Closer  and 
closer  we  came,  and  I,  lying  down  forward, 
was  just  reaching  out  to  grasp  the  skiff, 
when  it  ducked  under  the  great  stern  of  the 
Lancashire  Queen. 

The  chase  was  virtually  where  it  had 
begun.  The  Italians  were  rowing  up  the 
starboard  side  of  the  ship,  and  we  were 
hauled  close  on  the  wind  and  slowly  edging 
out  from  the  ship  as  we  worked  to  wind 
ward.  Then  they  darted  around  her  bow 
and  began  the  row  down  her  port  side, 


*i2    THE  "LANCASHIRE  QUEEN" 

and  we  tacked  about,  crossed  her  bow,  and 
went  plunging  down  the  wind  hot  after 
them.  And  again,  just  as  I  was  reaching 
for  the  skiff,  it  ducked  under  the  ship's 
stern  and  out  of  danger.  And  so  it  went,, 
around  and  around,  the  skifF  each  time  just, 
barely  ducking  into  safety. 

By  this  time  the  ship's  crew  had  become 
aware  of  what  was  taking  place,  and  we 
could  see  their  heads  m  a  long  row  as  they 
looked  at  us  over  the  bulwarks.  Each 
time  we  missed  the  skiff  at  the  stern,  the} 
set  up  a  wild  cheer  and  dashed  across  tx> 
the  other  side  of  the  Lancashire  Queen  to 
see  the  chase  to  windward.  They  show 
ered  us  and  the  Italians  with  jokes  and 
advice,  and  made  our  Greek  so  angry  that 
at  least  once  on  each  circuit  he  raised  his- 
fist  and  shook  it  at  them  in  a  rage.  They 
c:ime  to  look  for  this,  and  at  each  display 
greeted  it  with  uproarious  mirth. 


THE  "LANCASHIRE  QUEEN"    113 

'"Wot  a  circus!"    cried  one. 

"Tork  about  yer  marine  hippodromes, — 
if  this  ain't  one,  I'd  like  to  know!"  affirmed 
another. 

"Six-days-go-as-yer-please,"  announced  a 
third.  "Who  says  the  dagoes  won't  win?" 

On  the  next  tack  to  windward  the  Greek 
offered  to  change  places  with  Charley. 

"Let- a  me  sail-a  de  boat,"  he  demanded. 
"I  fix-a  them,  I  catch-a  them,  sure." 

This  was  a  stroke  at  Charley's  profes 
sional  pride,  for  pride  himself  he  did  upon 
his  boat-sailing  abilities;  but  he  yielded 
the  tiller  to  the  prisoner  and  took  his  place 
at  the  sheet.  Three  times  again  we  made 
the  circuit,  and  the  Greek  found  that  he 
could  get  no  more  speed  out  of  the  salmon 
boat  than  Charley  had. 

"Better  give  it  up,"  one  of  the  sailors 
advised  from  above. 


ii4   THE  "LANCASHIRE  QUEEN" 

The  Greek  scowled  ferociously  and  shook 
his  fist  in  his  customary  fashion.  In  the 
meanwhile  my  mind  had  not  been  idle,  and 
I  had  finally  evolved  an  idea. 

"Keep  going,  Charley,  one  time  more/* 
I  said. 

And  as  we  laid  out  on  the  next  tack  to 
windward,  I  bent  a  piece  of  line  to  a  small 
grappling  hook  I  had  seen  lying  in  the  bail- 
hole.  The  end  of  the  line  I  made  fast  to 
the  ring-bolt  in  the  bow,  and  with  the  hook 
out  of  sight  I  waited  for  the  next  oppor 
tunity  to  use  it.  Once  more  they  made 
their  leeward  pull  down  the  port  side  of  the 
Lancashire  Queen,  and  more  once  we 
churned  down  after  them  before  the  wind. 
Nearer  and  nearer  we  drew,  and  I  was 
making  believe  to  reach  for  them  as  before. 
The  stern  of  the  skifF  was  not  six  feet  away, 
and  they  were  laughing  at  me  derisively 


THE  "LANCASHIRE  QUEEN"    115 

as  they  ducked  under  the  ship's  stern.  At 
that  instant  I  suddenly  arose  aad  threw 
the  grappling  iron.  It  caught  fairly  and 
squarely  on  the  rail  of  the  skiff,  which  was 
jerked  backward  out  of  safety  as  the  rope 
tautened  and  the  salmon  boat  ploughed  on. 
A  groan  went  up  from  the  row  of  sailors 
above,  which  quickly  changed  to  a  cheer 
as  one  of  the  Italians  whipped  out  a  long 
sheath-knife  and  cut  the  rope.  But  we 
had  drawn  them  out  of  safety,  and  Charley, 
from  his  place  in  the  stern-sheets,  reached 
over  and  clutched  the  stern  of  the  skiff. 
The  whole  thing  happened  in  a  second  of 
time,  for  the  first  Italian  was  cutting  the 
rope  and  Charley  was  clutching  the  skiff, 
when  the  second  Italian  dealt  him  a  rap 
over  the  head  with  an  oar.  Charley  released 
his  hold  and  collapsed,  stunned,  into  the 
bottom  of  the  salmon  boat,  and  the  Italians 


n6  THE  "LANCASHIRE  QUEEN  '" 

bent  to  their  oars  and  escaped  back  under 
the  ship's  stern. 

The  Greek  took  both  tiller  and  sheet 
and  continued  the  chase  around  the  Lan 
cashire  Queen,  while  I  attended  to  Charley, 
on  whose  head  a  nasty  lump  was  rapidly 
rising.  Our  sailor  audience  was  wild  with 
delight,  and  to  a  man  encouraged  the  flee 
ing  Italians.  Charley  sat  up,  with  one 
hand  on  his  head,  and  gazed  about  him 
sheepishly. 

"  It  will  never  do  to  let  them  escape  now,'* 
he  said,  at  the  same  time  drawing  his  re 
volver. 

On  our  next  circuit,  he  threatened  the 
Italians  with  the  weapon;  but  they  rowed 
on  stolidly,  keeping  splendid  stroke  and 
utterly  disregarding  him. 

"If  you  don't  stop,  I'll  shoot,"  Charley 
said  menacingly. 


THE  "LANCASHIRE  QUEEN"    117 

But  this  had  no  effect,  nor  were  they  to 
be  frightened  into  surrendering  even  when 
he  fired  several  shots  dangerously  close  ta 
them.  It  was  too  much  to  expect  him  to 
shoot  unarmed  men,  and  this  they  knew  as 
well  as  we  did;  so  they  continued  to  pull 
doggedly  round  and  round  the  ship. 

"We'll  run  them  down,  then!"  Charley 
exclaimed.  "We'll  wear  them  out  and  wind 
them!" 

So  the  chase  continued.  Twenty  times 
more  we  ran  them  around  the  Lancashire 
Queen,  and  at  last  we  could  see  that  even 
their  iron  muscles  were  giving  out.  They 
were  nearly  exhausted,  and  it  was  only  a 
matter  of  a  few  more  circuits,  when  the 
game  took  on  a  new  feature.  On  the  row 
to  windward  they  always  gained  on  us,  so 
that  they  were  halfway  down  the  ship's 
side  on  the  row  to  leeward  when  we  were 


n8    THE  "LANCASHIRE  QUEEN " 

passing  the  bow.  But  this  last  time,  as  we 
passed  the  bow,  we  saw  them  escaping  up 
the  ship's  gangway,  which  had  been  sud 
denly  lowered.  It  was  an  organized  move 
on  the  part  of  the  sailors,  evidently  coun 
tenanced  by  the  captain;  for  by  the  time 
we  arrived  where  the  gangway  had  been,  it 
was  being  hoisted  up,  and  the  skiff,  slung 
in  the  ship's  davits,  was  likewise  flying  aloft 
out  of  reach. 

The  parley  that  followed  with  the  captain 
was  short  and  snappy.  He  absolutely  for 
bade  us  to  board  the  Lancashire  Queen, 
and  as  absolutely  refused  to  give  up  the 
two  men.  By  this  time  Charley  was  as  en 
raged  as  the  Greek.  Not  only  had  he  been 
foiled  in  a  long  and  ridiculous  chase,  but 
he  had  been  knocked  senseless  into  the 
bottom  of  his  boat  by  the  men  who  had 
escaped  him. 


THE  "LANCASHIRE  QUEEN"    119 

"Knock  off  my  head  with  little  apples,'* 
he  declared  emphatically,  striking  the  fist 
of  one  hand  into  the  palm  of  the  other, 
"if  those  two  men  ever  escape  me!  I'll 
stay  here  to  get  them  if  it  takes  the  rest  of 
my  natural  life,  and  if  I  don't  get  them, 
then  I  promise  you  I'll  live  unnaturally  long 
or  until  I  do  get  them,  or  my  name's  not 
Charley  Le  Grant!" 

And  then  began  the  siege  of  the  Lan 
cashire  Queen,  a  siege  memorable  in  the 
annals  of  both  fishermen  and  fish  patroL 
When  the  Reindeer  came  along,  after  a 
fruitless  pursuit  of  the  shad  fleet,  Charley 
instructed  Neil  Partington  to  send  out  his 
own  salmon  boat,  with  blankets,  provisions, 
and  a  fisherman's  charcoal  stove.  By  sun 
set  this  exchange  of  boats  was  made,  and 
we  said  good-by  to  our  Greek,  who  perforce 
had  to  go  into  Benicia  and  be  locked  up 


120  THE  "LANCASHIRE  QUEEN11 

for  his  own  violation  of  the  law.  After  sup 
per,  Charley  and  I  kept  alternate  four-hour 
watches  till  daylight.  The  fishermen  made 
no  attempt  to  escape  that  night,  though 
the  ship  sent  out  a  boat  for  scouting  pur 
poses  to  find  if  the  coast  were  clear. 

By  the  next  day  we  saw  that  a  steady 
siege  was  in  order,  and  we  perfected  our 
plans  with  an  eye  to  our  own  comfort.  A 
dock,  known  as  the  Solano  Wharf,  which 
ran  out  'from  the  Benicia  shore,  helped  us 
in  this.  It  happened  that  the  Lancashire 
Queeriy  the  shore  at  Turner's  Shipyard,  and 
the  Solano  Wharf  were  the  corners  of  a 
big  equilateral  triangle.  From  ship  to  shore, 
the  side  of  the  triangle  along  which  the 
Italians  had  to  escape,  was  a  distance 
equal  to  that  from  the  Solano  Wharf  to  the 
shore,  the  side  of  the  triangle  along  which 
we  had  to  travel  to  get  to  the  shore  before 


THE  "LANCASHIRE  QUEEN > 

the  Italians.  But  as  we  could  sail  muclv 
faster  than  they  could  row,  we  could  per 
mit  them  to  travel  about  half  their  side  of 
the  triangle  before  we  darted  out  along  our 
side.  If  we  allowed  them  to  get  more  than 
half-way,  they  were  certain  to  beat  us  to 
shore;  while  if  we  started  before  they  were 
half-way,  they  were  equally  certain  to  beat 
us  back  to  the  ship. 

We  found  that  an  imaginary  line,  drawn 
from  the  end  of  the  wharf  to  a  windmill 
farther  along  the  shore,  cut  precisely  in  half 
the  line  of  the  triangle  along  which  the 
Italians  must  escape  to  reach  the  land. 
This  line  made  it  easy  for  us  to  determine 
how  far  to  let  them  run  away  before  we 
bestirred  ourselves  in  pursuit.  Day  after 
day  we  would  watch  them  through  our 
glasses  as  they  rowed  leisurely  along  toward 
the  half-way  point;  and  as  they  drew  close 


122   THE  "LANCASHIRE  QUEEN" 

into  line  with  the  windmill,  we  would  leap 
into  the  boat  and  get  up  sail.  At  sight  of 
our  preparation,  they  would  turn  and  row 
slowly  back  to  the  Lancashire  Queen,  secure 
in  the  knowledge  that  we  could  not  over 
take  them. 

To  guard  against  calms  —  when  our 
salmon  boat  would  be  useless  —  we  also 
had  in  readiness  a  light  rowing  skiff 
equipped  with  spoon-oars.  But  at  such 
times,  when  the  wind  failed  us,  we  were 
forced  to  row  out  from  the  wharf  as  soon  as 
they  rowed  from  the  ship.  In  the  night 
time,  on  the  other  hand,  we  were  compelled 
to  patrol  the  immediate  vicinity  of  the  ship ; 
which  we  did,  Charley  and  I  standing  four- 
hour  watches  turn  and  turn  about.  The 
Italians,  however,  preferred  the  daytime  in 
which  to  escape,  and  so  our  long  night 
vigils  were  without  result. 


THE  "LANCASHIRE  QUEEN"    123 

"What  makes  me  mad,"  said  Charley, 
"is  our  being  kept  from  our  honest  beds 
while  those  rascally  lawbreakers  are  sleep 
ing  soundly  every  night.  But  much  good 
may  it  do  them/'  he  threatened.  "I'll  keep 
them  on  that  ship  till  the  captain  charges 
them  board,  as  sure  as  a  sturgeon's  not  a 
catfish!" 

It  was  a  tantalizing  problem  that  con 
fronted  us.  As  long  as  we  were  vigilant,, 
they  could  not  escape;  and  as  long  as  they 
were  careful,  we  would  be  unable  to  catch 
them.  Charley  cudgelled  his  brains  con 
tinually,  but  for  once  his  imagination  failed 
him.  It  was  a  problem  apparently  without 
other  solution  than  that  of  patience.  It  was 
a  waiting  game,  and  whichever  waited  the 
longer  was  bound  to  win.  To  add  to  our 
irritation,  friends  of  the  Italians  established 
a  code  of  signals  with  them  from  the  shore> 


124    THE  "LANCASHIRE  QUEEN" 

so  that  we  never  dared  relax  the  siege  for 
a  moment.  And  besides  this,  there  were 
always  one  or  two  suspicious-looking  fisher 
men  hanging  around  the  Solano  Wharf 
and  keeping  watch  on  our  actions.  We 
could  do  nothing  but  "grin  and  bear  it," 
as  Charley  said,  while  it  took  up  all  our 
time  and  prevented  us  from  doing  other 
work. 

The  days  went  by,  and  there  was  no 
change  in  the  situation.  Not  that  no  at 
tempts  were  made  to  change  it.  One  night 
friends  from  the  shore  came  out  in  a  skiff 
and  attempted  to  confuse  us  while  the  two 
Italians  escaped.  That  they  did  not  succeed 
was  due  to  the  lack  of  a  little  oil  on  the 
ship's  davits.  For  we  were  drawn  back 
from  the  pursuit  of  the  strange  boat  by  the 
creaking  of  the  davits,  and  arrived  at  the 
Lancashire  Queen  just  as  the  Italians  were 


THE  "LANCASHIRE  QUEEN"     125 

lowering  their  skiff.  Another  night,  fully 
half  a  dozen  skiffs  rowed  around  us  in  the 
darkness,  but  we  held  on  like  a  leech  to  the 
side  of  the  ship  and  frustrated  their  plan 
till  they  grew  angry  and  showered  us  with 
abuse.  Charley  laughed  to  himself  in  the 
bottom  of  the  boat. 

"It's  a  good  sign,  lad,"  he  said  to  me. 
"When  men  begin  to  abuse,  make  sure 
they're  losing  patience;  and  shortly  after 
they  lose  patience,  they  lose  their  heads. 
Mark  my  words,  if  we  only  hold  out,  they'll 
get  careless  some  fine  day,  and  then  we'll 
get  them." 

But  they  did  not  grow  careless,  and  Char 
ley  confessed  that  this  was  one  of  the 
times  when  ?.V.  signs  failed.  Their  patience 
seemed  equal  to  ours,  and  the  second  week 
of  the  siege  dragged  monotonously  along. 
Then  Charley's  lagging  imagination  quick' 


126    THE  "LANCASHIRE  QUEEN" 

ened  sufficiently  to  suggest  a  ruse.  Peter 
Boyelen,  a  new  patrolman  and  one  unknown 
to  the  fisher-folk,  happened  to  arrive  in 
Benicia,  and  we  took  him  into  our  plan. 
We  were  as  secret  as  possible  about  it, 
but  in  some  unfathomable  way  the  friends 
ashore  got  word  to  the  beleaguered  Italians 
to  keep  their  eyes  open. 

On  the  night  we  were  to  put  our  ruse 
into  effect,  Charley  and  I  took  up  our  usual 
station  in  our  rowing  skiff  alongside  the 
Lancashire  Queen.  After  it  was  thoroughly 
dark,  Peter  Boyelen  came  out  in  a  crazy 
duck  boat,  the  kind  you  can  pick  up  and 
carry  away  under  one  arm.  When  we 
heard  him  coming  along,  paddling  noisily, 
we  slipped  away  a  short  distance  into  the 
darkness  and  rested  on  our  oars.  Opposite 
the  gangway,  having  jovially  hailed  the 
anchor-watch  of  the  Lancashire  Queen  and 


THE  "LANCASHIRE  QUEEN"    127 

asked  the  direction  of  the  Scottish  Chiefs, 
another  wheat  ship,  he  awkwardly  capsized 
himself.  The  man  who  was  standing  the 
anchor-watch  ran  down  the  gangway  and 
hauled  him  out  of  the  water.  This  was 
what  he  wanted,  to  get  aboard  the  ship; 
and  the  next  thing  he  expected  was  to  be 
taken  on  deck  and  then  below  to  warm  up 
and  dry  out.  But  the  captain  inhospitably 
kept  him  perched  on  the  lowest  gangway 
step,  shivering  miserably  and  with  his  feet 
dangling  in  the  water,  till  we,  out  of  very 
pity,  rowed  in  from  the  darkness  and  took 
him  off.  The  jokes  and  gibes  of  the  awak 
ened  crew  sounded  anything  but  sweet  in 
our  ears,  and  even  the  two  Italians  climbed 
up  on  the  rail  and  laughed  down  at  us  long 
and  maliciously. 

" That's  all  right,"  Charley  said  in  a  low 
voice,  which    I    only    could    hear.       "Fm 


128    THE  "LANCASHIRE  QUEEN" 

mighty  glad  it's  not  us  that's  laughing  first. 
We'll  save  our  laugh  to  the  end,  eh,  lad  ?" 

He  clapped  a  hand  on  my  shoulder  as 
he  finished,  but  it  seemed  to  me  that  there 
was  more  determination  than  hope  in  his 
voice. 

It  would  have  been  possible  for  us  to 
secure  the  aid  of  United  States  marshals 
and  board  the  English  ship,  backed  by 
government  authority.  But  the  instruc 
tions  of  the  Fish  Commission  were  to  the 
effect  that  the  patrolmen  should  avoid  com 
plications,  and  this  one,  did  we  call  on  the 
higher  powers,  might  well  end  in  a  pretty 
international  tangle. 

The  second  week  of  the  siege  drew  to  its 
close,  and  there  was  no  sign  of  change  in 
the  situation.  On  the  morning  of  the  four 
teenth  day  the  change  came,  and  it  came  in 
a  guise  as  unexpected  and  startling  to  us 


THE  "LANCASHIRE  QUEEN"    129 

as  it  was  to  the  men  we  were  striving  to 
capture. 

Charley  and  I,  after  our  customary  night 
vigil  by  the  side  of  the  Lancashire  Queen, 
rowed  into  the  Solano  Wharf. 

"Hello!"  cried  Charley,  in  surprise. 
"In  the  name  of  reason  and  common  sense, 
what  is  that  ?  Of  all  unmannerly  craft  did 
you  ever  see  the  like  ?" 

Well  might  he  exclaim,  for  there,  tied  up 
to  the  dock,  lay  the  strangest-looking  launch 
I  had  ever  seen.  Not  that  it  could  be  called 
a  launch,  either,  but  it  seemed  to  resemble 
a  launch  more  than  any  other  kind  of  boat. 
It  was  seventy  feet  long,  but  so  narrow  was 
it,  and  so  bare  of  superstructure,  that  it 
appeared  much  smaller  than  it  really  was,. 
It  was  built  wholly  of  steel,  and  was  painted 
black.  Three  smokestacks,  a  good  dis 
tance  apart  and  raking  well  aft,  arose  in 
i 


130    THE  "LANCASHIRE  QUEEN" 

single  file  amidships;  while  the  bow,  long 
and  lean  and  sharp  as  a  knife,  plainly  ad 
vertised  that  the  boat  was  made  for  speed. 
Passing  under  the  stern,  we  read  Streak, 
painted  in  small  white  letters. 

Charley  and  I  were  consumed  with  curi 
osity.  In  a  few  minutes  we  were  on  board 
and  talking  with  an  engineer  who  was 
watching  the  sunrise  from  the  deck.  He 
was  quite  willing  to  satisfy  our  curiosity, 
and  in  a  few  minutes  we  learned  that  the 
Streak  had  come  in  after  dark  from  San 
Francisco;  that  this  was  what  might  be 
called  the  trial  trip;  and  that  she  was  the 
property  of  Silas  Tate,  a  young  mining 
millionaire  of  California,  whose  fad  was 
high-speed  yachts.  There  was  some  talk 
about  turbine  engines,  direct  application  of 
steam,  and  the  absence  of  pistons,  rods,  and 
cranks, — all  of  which  was  beyond  rne,  for 


THE  "LANCASHIRE  QUEEN"    131 

I  was  familiar  only  with  sailing  craft;  but  I 
did  understand  the  last  words  of  the  engineer. 

"Four  thousand  horse-power  and  forty- 
five  miles  an  hour,  though  you  wouldn't 
think  it,"  he  concluded  proudly. 

"Say  it  again,  man!  Say  it  again!" 
Charley  exclaimed  in  an  excited  voice. 

"Four  thousand  horse-power  and  forty- 
five  miles  an  hour,"  the  engineer  repeated, 
grinning  good-naturedly. 

"Where's  the  owner?"  was  Charley's 
next  question.  "Is  there  any  way  I  can 
speak  to  him  ?" 

The  engineer  shook  his  head.  "No,  I'm 
afraid  not.  He's  asleep,  you  see." 

At  that  moment  a  young  man  in  blue 
^uniform  came  on  deck  farther  aft  and  stood 
regarding  the  sunrise. 

"There  he  is,  that's  him,  that's  Mr. 
Pate,"  said  the  engineer. 


132    THE  "LANCASHIRE  QUEEN " 

Charley  walked  aft  and  spoke  to  him, 
and  while  he  talked  earnestly  the  young 
man  listened  with  an  amused  expression  on 
his  face.  He  must  have  inquired  about 
the  depth  of  water  close  in  to  the  shore  at 
Turner's  Shipyard,  for  I  could  see  Charley 
making  gestures  and  explaining.  A  few 
minutes  later  he  came  back  in  high  glee. 

"Come  on,  lad,"  he  said.  "On  to  the 
dock  with  you.  We've  got  them !  " 

It  was  our  good  fortune  to  leave  the 
Streak  when  we  did,  for  a  little  later  one  of 
the  spy  fishermen  appeared.  Charley  and 
I  took  up  our  accustomed  places,  on  the 
stringer-piece,  a  little  ahead  of  the  Streak 
and  over  our  own  boat,  where  we  could 
comfortably  watch  the  Lancashire  Queen. 
Nothing  occurred  till  about  nine  o'clock, 
when  we  saw  the  two  Italians  leave  the  ship 
and  pull  along  their  side  of  the  triangle 


THE  «  LANCASHIRE  QUEEN  "     133 

toward  the  shore.  Charley  looked  as  un 
concerned  as  could  be,  but  before  they  had. 
covered  a  quarter  of  the  distance,  he  whis 
pered  to  me: 

"Forty-five  miles  an  hour  .  .  .  nothing 
can  save  them  ....  they  are  ours!" 

Slowly  the  two  men  rowed  along  till  they 
were  nearly  in  line  with  the  windmill.  This: 
was  the  point  where  we  always  jumped 
into  our  salmon  boat  and  got  up  the  sail, 
and  the  two  men,  evidently  expecting  it, 
seemed  surprised  when  we  gave  no  sign. 

When  they  were  directly  in  line  with  the 
windmill,  as  near  to  the  shore  as  to  the 
ship,  and  nearer  the  shore  than  we  hgd  ever 
allowed  them  before,  they  grew  suspicious. 
We  followed  them  through  the  glasses,  and 
saw  them  standing  up  in  the  skiff  and  trying 
to  find  out  what  we  were  doing.  The  spy 
fisherman,  sitting  beside  us  on  the  stringer- 


134    THE  "LANCASHIRE  QUEEN" 

piece,  was  likewise  puzzled.  He  could  not 
understand  our  inactivity.  The  men  in  the 
skiff  rowed  nearer  the  shore,  but  stood  up 
again  and  scanned  it,  as  if  they  thought  we 
might  be  in  hiding  there.  But  a  man  came 
out  on  the  beach  and  waved  a  handkerchief 
to  indicate  that  the  coast  was  clear.  That 
settled  them.  They  bent  to  the  oars  to 
make  a  dash  for  it.  Still  Charley  waited. 
Not  until  they  had  covered  three-quarters 
of  the  distance  from  the  Lancashire  Queen, 
which  left  them  hardly  more  than  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  to  gain  the  shore,  did  Charley 
slap  me  on  the  shoulder  and  cry: 
"They're  ours  !  They're  ours  !" 
We  ran  the  few  steps  to  the  side  of  the 
Streak  and  jumped  aboard.  Stern  and  bow 
lines  were  cast  off  in  a  jiffy.  The  Streak 
shot  ahead  and  away  from  the  wharf.  The 
spy  fisherman  we  had  left  behind  on  the 


THE  «  LANCASHIRE  QUEEN  "     135 

stringer-piece  pulled  out  a  revolver  and 
fired  five  shots  into  the  air  in  rapid  succes 
sion.  The  men  in  the  skiff  gave  instant 
heed  to  the  warning,  for  we  could  see  them 
pulling  away  like  mad. 

But  if  they  pulled  like  mad,  I  wonder 
how  our  progress  can  be  described  ?  We 
fairly  flew.  So  frightful  was  the  speed 
with  which  we  displaced  the  water,  that  a 
wave  rose  up  on  either  side  our  bow  and 
foamed  aft  in  a  series  of  three  stiff,  up-stand 
ing  waves,  while  astern  a  great  crested 
billow  pursued  us  hungrily,  as  though  at 
each  moment  it  would  fall  aboard  and 
destroy  us.  The  Streak  was  pulsing  and 
vibrating  and  roaring  like  a  thing  alive. 
The  wind  of  our  progress  was  like  a  gale 
—  a  forty-five-mile  gale.  We  could  not  face 
it  and  draw  breath  without  choking  and 
strangling.  It  blew  the  smoke  straight  back 


136   THE  "LANCASHIRE  QUEEN" 

from  the  mouths  of  the  smoke-stacks  at  a 
direct  right  angle  to  the  perpendicular.  In 
fact,  we  were  travelling  as  fast  as  an  express 
train.  "We  just  streaked  it,"  was  the  way 
Charley  told  it  afterward,  and  I  think  his 
description  comes  nearer  than  any  I  can 
give. 

As  for  the  Italians  in  the  skiff  —  hardly 
had  we  started,  it  seemed  to  me,  when  we 
were  on  top  of  them.  Naturally,  we  had 
to  slow  down  long  before  we  got  to  them; 
but  even  then  we  shot  past  like  a  whirlwind 
and  were  compelled  to  circle  back  between 
them  and  the  shore.  They  had  rowed 
steadily,  rising  from  the  thwarts  at  every 
stroke,  up  to  the  moment  we  passed  them, 
when  they  recognized  Charley  and  me. 
That  took  the  last  bit  of  fight  out  of  them. 
They  hauled  in  their  oars  and  sullenly  sub 
mitted  to  arrest. 


THE  "LANCASHIRE  QUEEN"    137 

"Well,  Charley,"  Neil  Partington  said, 
as  we  discussed  it  on  the  wharf  afterward, 
"I  fail  to  see  where  your  boasted  imagina 
tion  came  into  play  this  time." 

But  Charley  was  true  to  his  hobby.  c  Im 
agination?"  he  demanded,  pointing  to  the 
Streak.  "Look  at  that!  Just  look  at  it! 
If  the  invention  of  that  isn't  imagination, 
I  should  like  to  know  what  is. 

"Of  course,"  he  added,  "it's  the  other 
fellow's  imagination,  but  it  did  the  work 
all  the  same." 


CHARLEY'S   COUP 


CHARLEY'S   COUP 

PERHAPS  our  most  laughable  exploit  on 
the  fish  patrol,  and  at  the  same  time 
our  most  dangerous  one,  was  when 
we  rounded  in,  at  a  single  haul,  an  even  score 
of  wrathful  fishermen.  Charley  called  it  a 
"coop,"  having  heard  Neil  Partington  use 
the  term;  but  I  think  he  misunderstood  the 
word,  and  thought  it  meant  "  coop, "  to  catch, 
to  trap.  The  fishermen,  however,  coup  or 
coop,  must  have  called  it  a  Waterloo,  for  it 
was  the  severest  stroke  ever  dealt  them  by 
the  fish  patrol,  while  they  had  invited  it  by 
open  and  impudent  defiance  of  the  law. 

During  what  is  called  the  "open  season" 
the  fishermen  might  catch  as  many  salmon 
141 


I42  CHARLEY'S   COUP 

as  their  luck  allowed  and  their  boats  couicfc 
hold.  But  there  was  one  important  restric 
tion.  From  sun-down  Saturday  night  to 
sun-up  Monday  morning,  they  were  not  per 
mitted  to  set  a  net.  This  was  a  wise  provi 
sion  on  the  part  of  the  Fish  Commission,  for 
it  was  necessary  to  give  the  spawning  salmon 
some  opportunity  to  ascend  the  river  and 
lay  their  eggs.  And  this  law,  with  only  an 
occasional  violation,  had  been  obediently 
observed  by  the  Greek  fishermen  who  caught 
salmon  for  the  canneries  and  the  market. 

One  Sunday  morning,  Charley  received  a 
telephone  call  from  a  friend  in  Collinsville^ 
who  told  him  that  the  full  force  of  fisher 
men  was  cut  with  its  nets.  Charley  and  I 
jumped  into  our  salmon  boat  and  started 
for  the  scene  of  the  trouble.  With  a  light 
favoring  wind  at  our  back  we  went  through 
the  Carquinez  Straits,  crossed  Suisun  Bay, 


CHARLEY'S   COUP  143 

passed  the  Ship  Island  Light,  and  came  upon 
the  whole  fleet  at  work. 

But  first  let  me  describe  the  method  by 
which  they  worked.  The  net  used  is  what  is 
known  as  a  gill-net.  It  has  a  simple  dia 
mond-shaped  mesh  which  measures  at  least 
seven  and  one-half  inches  between  the  knots. 
From  five  to  seven  and  even  eight  hundred 
feet  in  length,  these  nets  are  only  a  few  feet 
wide.  They  are  not  stationary,  but  float 
with  the  current,  the  upper  edge  supported 
on  the  surface  by  floats,  the  lower  edge 
sunk  by  means  of  leaden  weights. 

This  arrangement  keeps  the  net  upright  in 
the  current  and  effectually  prevents  all  but 
the  smaller  fish  from  ascending  the  river. 
The  salmon,  swimming  near  the  surface,  as 
is  their  custom,  run  their  heads  through 
these  meshes,  and  are  prevented  from  going 
on  through  by  their  larger  girth  of  body,  and 


144  CHARLEY  S   COUP 

from  going  back  because  of  their  gills,  which 
catch  in  the  mesh.  It  requires  two  fishermen 
to  set  such  a  net,  —  one  to  row  the  boat,  while 
the  other,  standing  in  the  stern,  carefully  pays 
out  the  net.  When  it  is  all  out,  stretching 
directly  across  the  stream,  the  men  make 
their  boat  fast  to  one  end  of  the  net  and  drift 
along  with  it. 

As  we  came  upon  the  fleet  of  law-breaking 
fishermen,  each  boat  two  or  three  hundred 
y^rds  from  its  neighbors,  and  boats  and  nets 
lotting  the  river  as  far  as  we  could  see, 
Charley  said: 

"I've  only  one  regret,  lad,  and  that  is  that 
?  haven't  a  thousand  arms  so  as  to  be  able 
!*?  catch  them  all.  As  it  is,  we'll  only  be  able 
Vo  catch  one  boat,  for  while  we  are  tackling 
that  one  it  will  be  up  nets  and  away  with  the 


/est." 


As  we  drew  closer,  we  observed  none  of 


CHARLEY'S   COUP  145 

the  usual  flurry  and  excitement  which  our 
appearance  invariably  produced.  Instead, 
each  boat  lay  quietly  by  its  net,  while  the 
fishermen  favored  us  with  not  the  slightest 
attention. 

"It's  curious,"  Charley  muttered.  "Can 
it  be  they  don't  recognize  us  ? " 

I  said  that  it  was  impossible,  and  Charley 
agreed;  yet  there  was  a  whole  fleet,  manned 
by  men  who  knew  us  only  too  well,  and  who 
took  no  more  notice  of  us  than  if  we  were 
a  hay  scow  or  a  pleasure  yacht. 

This  did  not  continue  to  be  the  case,  how 
ever,  for  as  we  bore  down  upon  the  nearest 
net,  the  men  to  whom  it  belonged  detached 
their  boat  and  rowed  slowly  toward  the  shore. 
The  rest  of  the  boats  showed  no  sign  of 
'  uneasiness. 

"That's  funny,"  was  Charley's  remark. 
"But  we  can  confiscate  the  net,  at  any  rate.'* 


146  CHARLEY'S   COUP 

We  lowered  sail,  picked  up  one  end  of  the 
net,  and  began  to  heave  it  into  the  boat.  But 
at  the  first  heave  we  heard  a  bullet  zip-zipping 
past  us  on  the  water,  followed  by  the  faint 
report  of  a  rifle.  The  men  who  had  rowed 
ashore  were  shooting  at  us.  At  the  next 
heave  a  second  bullet  went  zipping  past, 
perilously  near.  Charley  took  a  turn  around 
a  pin  and  sat  down.  There  were  no  more 
shots.  But  as  soon  as  he  began  to  heave  in, 
the  shooting  recommenced. 

"That  settles  it,"  he  said,  flinging  the  end 
of  the  net  overboard.  "You  fellows  want  it 
worse  than  we  do,  and  you  can  have  it." 

We  rowed  over  toward  the  next  net,  for 
Charley  was  intent  on  finding  out  whether  or 
not  we  were  face  to  face  with  an  organized 
defiance.  As  we  approached,  the  two  fisher 
men  proceeded  to  cast  off  from  their  net  and 
row  ashore,  while  the  first  two  rowed  back 


CHARLEY'S   COUP  147 

and  made  fast  to  the  net  we  had  abandoned. 
And  at  the  second  net  we  were  greeted  by 
rifle  shots  till  we  desisted  and  went  on  to  the 
third,  where  the  manoeuvre  was  again 
repeated. 

Then  we  gave  it  up,  completely  routed,  and 
hoisted  sail  and  started  on  the  long  wind 
ward  beat  back  to  Benicia.  A  number  of 
Sundays  went  by,  on  each  of  which  the  law 
was  persistently  violated.  Yet,  short  of  an 
armed  force  of  soldiers,  we  could  do  nothing. 
The  fishermen  had  hit  upon  a  new  idea  and 
were  using  it  for  all  it  was  worth,  while  there 
seemed  no  way  by  which  we  could  get  the 
better  of  them. 

About  this  time  Neil  Partington  happened 
along  from  the  Lower  Bay,  where  he  had  been 
for  a  number  of  weeks.  With  him  was 
Nicholas,  the  Greek  boy  who  had  helped 
us  in  our  raid  on  the  oyster  pirates,  and  the 


148  CHARLEY'S   COUP 

pair  of  them  took  a  hand.  We  made  our 
arrangements  carefully.  It  was  planned  that 
while  Charley  and  I  tackled  the  nets,  they 
were  to  be  hidden  ashore  so  as  to  ambush  the 
fishermen  who  landed  to  shoot  at  us. 

It  was  a  pretty  plan.  Even  Charley  said 
it  was.  But  we  reckoned  not  half  so  well  as 
the  Greeks.  They  forestalled  us  by  ambush 
ing  Neil  and  Nicholas  and  taking  them 
prisoners,  while,  as  of  old,  bullets  wrhistled 
about  our  ears  when  Charley  and  I  attempted 
to  take  possession  of  the  nets.  When  we 
were  again  beaten  off,  Neil  Partington  and 
Nicholas  were  released.  They  were  rather 
shamefaced  when  they  put  in  an  appearance, 
and  Charley  chaffed  them  unmercifully. 
But  Neil  chaffed  back,  demanding  to  know 
why  Charley's  imagination  had  not  long 
since  overcome  the  difficulty. 

'''  Just  you  wait;  the  idea'll  come  all  right," 
Charley  promised. 


CHARLEY'S   COUP  149 

"Most  probably/'  Neil  agreed.  "But 
I'm  afraid  the  salmon  will  be  exterminated 
first,  and  then  there  will  be  no  need  for  it 
when  it  does  come." 

Neil  Partington,  highly  disgusted  with  his 
adventure,  departed  for  the  Lower  Bay,. 
taking  Nicholas  with  him,  and  Charley  and  I 
w^ere  left  to  our  own  resources.  This  meant 
that  the  Sunday  fishing  would  be  left  to  itself 
too,  until  such  time  as  Charley's  idea  hap 
pened  along.  I  puzzled  my  head  a  good 
deal  to  find  out  some  way  of  checkmating  the 
Greeks,  as  also  did  Charley,  and  we  broached 
a  thousand  expedients  which  on  discussion 
proved  worthless. 

The  fishermen,  on  the  other  hand,  were 
in  high  feather,  and  their  boasts  went  up  and 
down  the  river  to  add  to  our  discomfiture. 
Among  all  classes  of  them  we  became  aware 
of  a  growing  insubordination.  We  were 


150  CHARLEY'S   COUP 

beaten,  and  they  were  losing  respect  for  us. 
With  the  loss  of  respect,  contempt  began  to 
arise.  Charley  began  to  be  spoken  of  as  the 
"olda  woman,"  and  I  received  my  rating  as 
the  "pee-wee  kid."  The  situation  was  fast 
becoming  unbearable,  and  we  knew  that  we 
should  have  to  deliver  a  stunning  stroke  at 
the  Greeks  in  order  to  regain  the  old-time 
respect  in  which  we  had  stood. 

Then  one  morning  the  idea  came.  We 
were  down  on  Steamboat  Wharf,  where  the 
river  steamers  made  their  landings,  and  where 
we  found  a  group  of  amused  long-shore 
men  and  loafers  listening  to  the  hard-luck 
tale  of  a  sleepy-eyed  young  fellow  in  long 
sea-boots.  He  was  a  sort  of  amateur  fish 
erman,  he  said,  fishing  for  the  local  market 
of  Berkeley.  Now  Berkeley  was  on  the 
Lower  Bay,  thirty  miles  away.  On  the 
previous  night,  he  said,  he  had  set  his  net 


CHARLEY'S   COUP  151 

and  dozed  off  to  sleep  in  the  bottom  of  the 
boat. 

The  next  he  knew  it  was  morning,  and  he 
opened  his  eyes  to  find  his  boat  rubbing  softly 
against  the  piles  of  Steamboat  Wharf  at 
Benicia.  Also  he  saw  the  river  steamer 
Apache  lying  ahead  of  him,  and  a  couple  of 
deck-hands  disentangling  the  shreds  of  his  net 
from  the  paddle-wheel.  In  short,  after  he 
had  gone  to  sleep,  his  fisherman's  riding 
light  had  gone  out,  and  the  Apache  had  run 
over  his  net.  Though  torn  pretty  well  to 
pieces,  the  net  in  some  way  still  remained 
foul,  and  he  had  had  a  thirty-mile  tow  out 
of  his  course. 

Charley  nudged  me  with  his  elbow.  I 
grasped  his  thought  on  the  instant,  but 
objected : 

"We  can't  charter  a  steamboat." 

"Don't    intend    to,"    he    rejoined.     "But 


152  CHARLEY'S   COUP 

let's  run  over  to  Turner's  Shipyard.  I've 
something  in  my  mind  there  that  may  be 
of  use  to  us." 

And  over  we  went  to  the  shipyard,  where 
Charley  led  the  way  to  the  Mary  Rebecca, 
lying  hauled  out  on  the  ways,  where  she  was 
being  cleaned  and  overhauled.  She  was  a 
scow-schooner  we  both  knew  well,  carrying 
a  cargo  of  one  hundred  and  forty  tons  and 
a  spread  of  canvas  greater  than  any  other 
schooner  on  the  bay. 

"How  d'ye  do,  Ole,"  Charley  greeted  a 
big  blue-shirted  Swede  who  was  greasing  the 
jaws  of  the  main  gaff  with  a  piece  of  pork 
rind. 

Ole  grunted,  puffed  away  at  his  pipe,  and 
went  on  greasing.  The  captain  of  a  bay 
schooner  is  supposed  to  work  with  his  hands 
just  as  well  as  the  men. 

Ole  Ericsen  verified  Charley's  conjecture 


CHARLEY'S    COUP  153 

that  the  Mary  Rebecca,  as  soon  as  launched, 
would  run  up  the  San  Joaquin  River  nearly 
to  Stockton  for  a  load  of  wheat.  Then 
Charley  made  his  proposition,  and  Ole 
Ericsen  shook  his  head. 

"Just  a  hook,  one  good-sized  hook/* 
Charley  pleaded. 

"No,  Ay  tank  not,"  said  Ole  Ericsen. 
"Der  Mary  Rebecca  yust  hang  up  on  efery 
mud-bank  with  that  hook.  Ay  don't  want 
to  lose  der  Mary  Rebecca.  She's  all  Ay  got." 

"No,  no,"  Charley  hurried  to  explain. 
"We  can  put  the  end  of  the  hook  through 
the  bottom  from  the  outside,  and  fasten  it  on 
the  inside  with  a  nut.  After  it's  done  its 
work,  why,  all  we  have  to  do  is  to  go  down 
into  the  hold,  unscrew  the  nut,  and  out  drops 
the  hook.  Then  drive  a  wooden  peg  into  the 
hole,  and  the  Mary  Rebecca  will  be  all  right 
again." 


iS4  CHARLEY'S   COUP 

Ole  Ericsen  was  obstinate  for  a  long  time; 
but  in  the  end,  after  we  had  had  dinner  with 
him,  he  was  brought  round  to  consent. 

"Ay  do  it,  by  Yupiter!"  he  said,  striking 
one  huge  fist  into  the  palm  of  the  other  hand. 
"  But  yust  hurry  you  up  with  der  hook.  Der 
Mary  Rebecca  slides  into  der  water  to-night." 

It  was  Saturday,  and  Charley  had  need  to 
hurry.  We  headed  for  the  shipyard  black 
smith  shop,  where,  under  Charley's  direc 
tions,  a  most  generously  curved  hook  of 
heavy  steel  was  made.  Back  we  hastened 
to  the  Mary  Rebecca.  Aft  of  the  great  centre 
board  case,  through  what  was  properly  her 
keel,  a  hole  was  bored.  The  end  of  the  hook 
was  inserted  from  the  outside,  and  Charley, 
on  the  inside,  screwed  the  nut  on  tightly. 
As  it  stood  complete,  the  hook  projected  over 
a  foot  beneath  the  bottom  of  the  schooner. 
Its  curve  was  something  like  the  curve  of  a 
,sickle,  but  deeper. 


CHARLEY'S   COUP  155 

In  the  late  afternoon  the  Mary  Rebecca 
was  launched,  and  preparations  were  finished 
for  the  start  up-river  next  morning.  Charley 
and  Ole  intently  studied  the  evening  sky  for 
signs  of  wind,  for  without  a  good  breeze 
our  project  was  doomed  to  failure.  They 
agreed  that  there  were  all  the  signs  of  a  stiff 
westerly  wind  —  not  the  ordinary  afternoon 
sea-breeze,  but  a  half-gale,  which  even  then 
was  springing  up. 

Next  morning  found  their  predictions  veri 
fied.  The  sun  was  shining  brightly,  but 
something  more  than  a  half-gale  was  shriek 
ing  up  the  Carquinez  Straits,  and  the  Mary 
Rebecca  got  under  way  with  two  reefs  in  her 
mamsail  and  one  in  her  foresail.  We  found 
it  quite  rough  in  the  Straits  and  in  Suisun 
Bay;  but  as  the  water  grew  more  land 
locked  it  became  calm,  though  without  let-up 
in  the  wind. 


156  CHARLEY'S   COUP 

Off  Ship  Island  Light  the  reefs  were 
shaken  out,  and  at  Charley's  suggestion  a 
big  fisherman's  staysail  was  made  all  ready 
for  hoisting,  and  the  maintopsail,  bunched 
into  a  cap  at  the  masthead,  was  overhauled 
so  that  it  could  be  set  on  an  instant's  notice. 

We  were  tearing  along,  wing-and-wing, 
before  the  wind,  foresail  to  starboard  and 
mainsail  to  port,  as  we  came  upon  the  salmon 
fleet.  There  they  were,  boats  and  nets,  as 
on  that  first  Sunday  when  they  had  bested  us, 
strung  out  evenly  over  the  river  as  far  as  we 
could  see.  A  narrow  space  on  the  right-hand 
side  of  the  channel  was  left  clear  for  steam 
boats,  but  the  rest  of  the  river  was  covered 
with  the  wide-stretching  nets.  The  narrow 

O 

space  was  our  logical  course,  but  Charley,  at 
the  wheel,  steered  the  Mary  Rebecca  straight 
for  the  nets. 

This  did  not  cause  any  alarm  among  the 


CHARLEY'S    COUP  157 

fishermen,  because  up-river  sailing  craft  are 
always  provided  with  "shoes"  on  the  ends  of 
their  keels,  which  permit  them  to  slip  over 
the  nets  without  fouling  them. 

"  Now  she  takes  it ! "  Charley  cried,  as  we 
dashed  across  the  middle  of  a  line  of  floats 
which  marked  a  net.  At  one  end  of  this 
line  was  a  small  barrel  buoy,  at  the  other  the 
two  fishermen  in  their  boat.  Buoy  and  boat 
at  once  began  to  draw  together,  and  the  fish 
ermen  to  cry  out,  as  they  were  jerked  after 
us.  A  couple  of  minutes  later  we  hooked  a 
second  net,  and  then  a  third,  and  in  this 
fashion  we  tore  straight  up  through  the 
centre  of  the  fleet. 

The  consternation  we  spread  among  the 
fishermen  was  tremendous.  As  fast  as  \ve 
hooked  a  net  the  two  ends  of  it,  buoy  and 
boat,  came  together  as  they  dragged  out 
astern ;  and  so  many  buoys  and  boats,  coming 


158  CHARLEY'S    COUP 

together  at  such  breakneck  speed,  kept  the 
fishermen  on  the  jump  to  avoid  smashing 
into  one  another.  Also,  they  shouted  at  us 
like  mad  to  heave  to  into  the  wind,  for  they 
took  it  as  some  drunken  prank  on  the  part 
of  scow-sailors,  little  dreaming  that  we  were 
the  fish  patrol. 

The  drag  of  a  single  net  is  very  heavy,  and 
Charley  and  Ole  Ericsen  decided  that  even 
in  such  a  wind  ten  nets  were  all  the  Mary 
Rebecca  could  take  along  with  her.  So  when 
we  had  hooked  ten  nets,  with  ten  boats  con 
taining  twenty  men  streaming  along  behind 
us,  we  veered  to  the  left  out  of  the  fleet  and 
headed  toward  Collinsville. 

We  were  all  jubilant.  Charley  was  han 
dling  the  wheel  as  though  he  were  steering  the 
winning  yacht  home  in  a  race.  The  two 
sailors  who  made  up  the  crew  of  the  Mary 
Rebecca,  were  grinning  and  joking.  Ole 


CHARLEY'S   COUP  159 

Ericsen  was  rubbing  his  huge  hands  in  child 
like  glee. 

"Ay  tank  you  fish  patrol  fallers  never 
ban  so  lucky  as  when  you  sail  with  Ole 
Ericsen/'  he  was  saying,  when  a  rifle  cracked 
sharply  astern,  and  a  bullet  gouged  along 
the  newly  painted  cabin,  glanced  on  a  nail, 
and  sang  shrilly  onward  into  space. 

This  was  too  much  for  Ole  Ericsen.  At 
sight  of  his  beloved  paintwork  thus  defaced, 
he  jumped  up  and  shook  his  fist  at  the  fisher 
men;  but  a  second  bullet  smashed  into  the 
cabin  not  six  inches  from  his  head,  and  he 
dropped  down  to  the  deck  under  cover  of 
the  rail. 

All  the  fishermen  had  rifles,  and  they  now 
opened  a  general  fusillade.  We  were  all 
driven  to  cover  —  even  Charley,  who  was 
compelled  to  desert  the  wheel.  Had  it  not 
been  for  the  heavy  drag  of  the  nets,  we  would 


160  CHARLEY'S   COUP 

inevitably  have  broached  to  at  the  mercy  of 
the  enraged  fishermen.  But  the  nets,  fastened 
to  the  bottom  of  the  Mary  Rebecca  well  aft, 
held  her  stern  into  the  wind,  and  she  con 
tinued  to  plough  on,  though  somewhat 
erratically. 

Charley,  lying  on  the  deck,  could  just 
manage  to  reach  the  lower  spokes  of  the  wheel ; 
but  while  he  could  steer  after  a  fashion,  it 
was  very  awkward*  Ole  Ericsen  bethought 
himself  of  a  large  piece  of  sheet  steel  in  the 
empty  hold.  It  was  in  fact  a  plate  from  the 
side  of  the  New  Jersey,  a  steamer  which  had 
recently  been  wrecked  outside  the  Golden 
Gate,  and  in  the  salving  of  which  the  Mary 
Rebecca  had  taken  part. 

Crawling  carefully  along  the  deck,  the 
two  sailors,  Ole,  and  myself  got  the  heavy 
plate  on  deck  and  aft,  where  we  reared  it  as  a 
shield  between  the  wheel  and  the  fishermen. 


CHARLEY'S   COUP  161 

The  bullets  whanged  and  banged  against  it 
till  it  rang  like  a  bulPs-eye,  but  Charley 
grinned  in  its  shelter,  and  coolly  went  on 
steering. 

So  we  raced  along,  behind  us  a  howling, 
screaming  bedlam  of  wrathful  Greeks,  Col- 
linsville  ahead,  and  bullets  spat-spatting  all 
around  us. 

"Ole,"  Charley  said  in  a  faint  voice,  "I 
don't  know  what  we're  going  to  do." 

Ole  Ericsen,  lying  on  his  back  close  to  the 
rail  and  grinning  upward  at  the  sky,  turned 
over  on  his  side  and  looked  at  him.  "Ay 
tank  we  go  into  Collinsville  yust  der  same," 
he  said. 

"But  we  can't  stop,"  Charley  groaned. 
"  I  never  thought  of  it,  but  we  can't  stop." 

A  look  of  consternation  slowly  overspread 
Ole  Ericsen's  broad  face.  It  was  only  too 
true.  We  had  a  hornet's  nest  on  our  hands, 
i. 


162  CHARLEY'S    COUP 

and  to  stop  at  Collinsville  would  be  to  have 
it  about  our  ears. 

"  Every  man  Jack  of  them  has  a  gun,"  one 
of  the  sailors  remarked  cheerfully. 

"  Yes,  and  a  knife,  too/'  the  other  sailor 
added. 

It  was  Ole  Ericsen's  turn  to  groan.  "What 
for  a  Svaidish  faller  like  me  monkey  with  none 
of  my  biziness,  I  don't  know,"  he  soliloquized. 

A  bullet  glanced  on  the  stern  and  sang  off 
to  starboard  like  a  spiteful  bee.  "  There's 
nothing  to  do  but  plump  the  Mary  Rebecca 
ashore  and  run  for  it,"  was  the  verdict  of  the 
first  cheerful  sailor. 

"And  leaf  der  Mary  Rebecca?"  Ole  de 
manded,  with  unspeakable  horror  in  his 
voice. 

"Not  unless  you  want  to,"  was  the  response. 
"  But  I  don't  want  to  be  within  a  thousand 
miles  of  her  when  those  fellers  come  aboard" 


CHARLEY'S    COUP  163 

—  indicating  the  bedlam  of  excited  Greeks 
towing  behind. 

We  were  right  in  at  Collinsville  then,  and 
went  foaming  by  within  biscuit-toss  of  the 
wharf. 

"I  only  hope  the  wind  holds  out,"  Charley 
said,  stealing  a  glance  at  our  prisoners. 

"  What  of  der  wind  ? "  Ole  demanded 
disconsolately.  "  Der  river  will  not  hold  out, 
and  then  .  .  .  and  then  ..." 

"  It's  head  for  tall  timber,  and  the  Greeks 
take  the  hindermost,"  adjudged  the  cheerful 
sailor,  while  Ole  was  stuttering  over  what 
would  happen  when  we  came  to  the  end  of 
the  river. 

We  had  now  reached  a  dividing  of  the  ways. 
To  the  left  was  the  mouth  of  the  Sacramento 
River,  to  the  right  the  mouth  of  the  San  Joa- 
quin.  The  cheerful  sailor  crept  forward 
and  jibed  over  the  foresail  as  Charley  put 


i64  CHARLEYS    COUP 

the  helm  to  starboard  and  we  swerved  to  the 
right  into  the  San  Joaquin.  The  wind, 
from  which  we  had  been  running  away  on 
an  even  keel,  now  caught  us  on  our  beamr 
and  the  Mary  Rebecca  was  pressed  down  on 
her  port  side  as  if  she  were  about  to  capsize. 

Still  we  dashed  on,  and  still  the  fishermen 
dashed  on  behind.  The  value  of  their  nets 
was  greater  than  the  fines  they  would  have 
to  pay  for  violating  the  fish  laws;  so  to  cast 
off  from  their  nets  and  escape,  which  they 
could  easily  do,  would  profit  them  nothing. 
Further,  they  remained  by  their  nets  instinc 
tively,  as  a  sailor  remains  by  his  ship.  And 
still  further,  the  desire  for  vengeance  was 
roused,  and  we  could  depend  upon  it  that 
they  would  follow  us  to  the  ends  of  the  earth, 
if  we  undertook  to  tow  them  that  far. 

The  rifle-firing  had  ceased,  and  we  looked 
astern  to  see  what  our  prisoners  were  doing. 


CHARLEY'S   COUP  165 

The  boats  were  strung  along  at  unequal  dis 
tances  apart,  and  we  saw  the  four  nearest 
ones  bunching  together.  This  was  done  by 
the  boat  ahead  trailing  a  small  rope  astern 
to  the  one  behind.  When  this  was  caught, 
they  would  cast  off  from  their  net  and  heave 
in  on  the  line  till  they  were  brought  up  to  the 
boat  in  front.  So  great  was  the  speed  at 
which  we  were  travelling,  however,  that  this; 
was  very  slow  work.  Sometimes  the  men 
would  strain  to  their  utmost  and  fail  to  get  in 
an  inch  of  the  rope;  at  other  times  they 
came  ahead  more  rapidly. 

When  the  four  boats  were  near  enough' 
together  for  a  man  to  pass  from  one  to  another,, 
one  Greek  from  each  of  three  got  into  the 
nearest  boat  to  us,  taking  his  rifle  with  him. 
This  made  five  in  the  foremost  boat>  and  it 
was  plain  that  their  intention  was  to  board 
us.  This  they  undertook  to  do,  by  main 


166  CHARLEY'S   COUP 

strength  and  sweat,  running  hand  over  hand 
the  float-line  of  a  net.  And  though  it  was 
slow,  and  they  stopped  frequently  to  rest? 
they  gradually  drew  nearer. 

Charley  smiled  at  their  efforts,  and  said, 
"Give  her  the  topsail,  Ole." 

The  cap  at  the  mainmast  head  was  broken 
out,  and  sheet  and  downhaul  pulled  flat, 
amid  a  scattering  rifle  fire  from  the  boats; 
and  the  Mary  Rebecca  lay  over  and  sprang 
ahead  faster  than  ever. 

But  the  Greeks  were  undaunted.  Unable, 
at  the  increased  speed,  to  draw  themselves 
nearer  by  means  of  their  hands,  they  rigged 
from  the  blocks  of  their  boat  sail  what  sailors 
call  a  "watch-tackle."  One  of  them?  held 
by  the  legs  by  his  mates,  would  lean  far  ever 
the  bow  and  make  the  tackle  fast  to  the  flost- 
line.  Then  they  would  heave  in  on  the  tackle 
till  the  blocks  were  together,  when  the  ma 
noeuvre  would  be  repeated. 


CHARLEY'S   COUP  167 

"Have  to  give  her  the  staysail,"  Charley 
said. 

Ole  Ericsen  looked  at  the  straining  Mary 
Rebecca  and  shook  his  head.  "It  will  take 
der  masts  out  of  her,"  he  said. 

"And  we'll  be  taken  out  of  her  if  you 
don't,"  Charley  replied. 

Ole  shot  an  anxious  glance  at  his  masts, 
another  at  the  boat  load  of  armed  Greeks, 
and  consented. 

The  five  men  were  in  the  bow  of  the  boat 
—  a  bad  place  when  a  craft  is  towing.  I  was 
watching  the  behavior  of  their  boat  as  the 
great  fisherman's  staysail,  far,  far  larger 
than  the  topsail  and  used  only  in  light 
breezes,  was  broken  out.  As  the  Mary 
Rebecca  lurched  forward  with  a  tremendous 
jerk,  the  nose  of  the  boat  ducked  down  into 
the  water,  and  the  men  tumbled  over  one 
another  in  a  wild  rush  into  the  stern  to  save 


168  CHARLEY'S   COUP 

the  boat  from  being  dragged  sheer  undei 
water. 

"That  settles  them!"  Charley  remarked, 
though  he  was  anxiously  studying  the  behav 
ior  of  the  Mary  Rebecca,  which  was  being 
driven  under  far  more  canvas  than  she  was 
rightly  able  to  carry. 

"Next  stop  is  Antioch!"  announced  the 
cheerful  sailor,  after  the  manner  of  a  railway 
conductor.  "And  next  comes  Merry- 
weather!" 

"  Come  here,  quick,"  Charley  said  to  me. 

I  crawled  across  the  deck  and  stood  upright 
beside  him  in  the  shelter  of  the  sheet  steel. 

"Feel  in  my  inside  pocket,"  he  commanded, 
"and  get  my  notebook.  That's  right.  Tear 
out  a  blank  page  and  write  what  I  tell  you." 

And  this  is  what  I  wrote: 

Telephone  to  Merryweather,  to  the  sheriff,  the 
constable,  or  the  judge.  Tell  them  we  are  coming 


CHARLEY'S    COUP  169 

and  to  turn  out  the  town.  Arm  everybody.  Have 
them  down  on  the  wharf  to  meet  us  or  we  are  gone 
gooses. 

"Now  make  it  good  and  fast  to  that  mar- 
linspike,  and  stand  by  to  toss  it  ashore." 

I  did  as  he  directed.  By  then  we  were 
close  to  Antioch.  The  wind  was  shouting 
through  our  rigging,  the  Mary  Rebecca  was 
half  over  on  her  side  and  rushing  ahead  like 
an  ocean  greyhound.  The  seafaring  folk 
of  Antioch  had  seen  us  breaking  out  top 
sail  and  staysail,  a  most  reckless  performance 
in  such  weather,  and  had  hurried  to  the 
wharf-ends  in  little  groups  to  find  out  what 
was  the  matter. 

Straight  down  the  water  front  we  boomed,. 
Charley  edging  in  till  a  man  could  almost 
leap  ashore.  When  he  gave  the  signal  I 
tossed  the  marlinspike.  It  struck  the  plank 
ing  of  the  wharf  a  resounding  smash,  bounced 


170  CHARLEY'S   COUP 

along  fifteen  or  twenty  fee",  and  was  pounced 
upon  by  the  amazed  onlookers. 

It  all  happened  in  a  flash,  for  the  next 
minute  Antioch  was  behind  and  we  were 
heeling  it  up  the  San  Joaquin  toward  Merry- 
weather,  six  miles  away.  1  he  river  straight 
ened  out  here  into  its  general  easterly  course, 
and  we  squared  away  before  the  wind,  wing- 
and-wing  once  more,  the  foresail  bellying  out 
to  starboard. 

Ole  Ericsen  seemed  sunk  into  a  state  of 
stolid  despair,  Charley  and  the  two  sailors 
were  looking  hopeful,  as  they  had  good 
reason  to  be,  Merryweather  was  a  coal 
mining  town,  and,  it  being  Sunday,  it  was 
reasonable  to  expect  the  men  to  be  in  town. 
Further,  the  coal-miners  had  never  lost 
any  love  for  the  Greek  fishermen,  and 
were  pretty  certain  to  render  us  hearty 
assistance. 


CHARLEY'S   COUP  171 

We  strained  our  eyes  for  a  glimpse  of  the 
town,  and  the  first  sight  we  caught  of  it  gave 
us  immense  relief.  The  wharves  were  black 
with  men.  As  we  came  closer,  we  could  see 
them  still  arriving,  stringing  down  the  main 
street,  guns  in  their  hands  and  on  the  run. 
Charley  glanced  astern  at  the  fishermen 
with  a  look  of  ownership  in  his  eye  which 
till  then  had  been  missing.  The  Greeks 
were  plainly  overawed  by  the  display  of  armed 
strength  and  were  putting  their  own  rifles 
away. 

We  took  in  topsail  and  staysail,  dropped 
the  main  peak,  and  as  we  got  abreast  of  the 
principal  wharf  jibed  the  mainsail.  The 
Mary  Rebecca  shot  around  into  the  wind,  the 
captive  fishermen  describing  a  great  arc 
behind  her,  and  forged  ahead  till  she  lost 
way,  when  lines  were  flung  ashore  and  she 
was  made  fast.  This  was  accomplished  under 


172  CHARLEY'S   COUP 

a  hurricane  of  cheers  from  the  delighted 
miners. 

Ole  Ericsen  heaved  a  great  sigh.  "Ay 
never  tank  Ay  see  my  wife  never  again,"  he 
confessed. 

"Why,  we  were  never  in  any  danger," 
said  Charley. 

Ole  looked  at  him  incredulously. 

"Sure,  I  mean  it,"  Charley  went  on.  "All 
we  had  to  do,  any  time,  was  to  let  go  our  end 
—  as  I  am  going  to  do  now,  so  that  those 
Greeks  can  untangle  their  nets." 

He  went  below  with  a  monkey-wrench, 
unscrewed  the  nut,  and  let  the  hook  drop 
off.  When  the  Greeks  had  hauled  their  nets 
into  their  boats  and  made  everything  ship 
shape,  a  posse  of  citizens  took  them  off  our 
hands  and  led  them  away  to  jail. 

"Ay  tank  Ay  ban  a  great  big  fool,"  said 
Ole  Ericsen.  But  he  changed  his  mind  when 


CHARLEY'S   COUP  173 

the  admiring  townspeople  crowded  aboard 
to  shake  hands  with  him,  and  a  couple  of 
enterprising  newspaper  men  took  photographs 
of  the  Mary  Rebecca  and  her  captain. 


VI 

DEMETRIOS   CONTOS 


DEMETRIOS   CONTOS 

IT  must  not  be  thought,  from  what  I  have 
told  of  the  Greek  fishermen,  that  they 
were  altogether  bad.  Far  from  it.  But 
they  were  rough  men,  gathered  together  in 
isolated  communities  and  fighting  with  the 
elements  for  a  livelihood.  They  lived  far 
away  from  the  law  and  its  workings,  did  not 
understand  it,  and  thought  it  tyranny.  Es 
pecially  did  the  fish  laws  seem  tyrannical. 
And  because  of  this,  they  looked  upon  the 
men  of  the  fish  patrol  as  their  natural 
enemies. 

We   menaced  their  lives,   or  their  living, 
which  is  the  same  thing,  in  many  ways.     We 
-confiscated  illegal  traps  and  nets,  the  mate- 
M  177 


178        DEMETRIOS   CONTOS 

rials  of  which  had  cost  them  considerable 
sums  and  the  making  of  which  required 
weeks  of  labor.  We  prevented  them  from 
catching  fish  at  many  times  and  seasons, 
which  was  equivalent  to  preventing  them 
from  making  as  good  a  living  as  they  might 
have  made  had  we  not  been  in  existence. 
And  when  we  captured  them,  they  were 
brought  into  the  courts  of  law,  where  heavy 
cash  fines  were  collected  from  them.  As  a 
result,  they  hated  us  vindictively.  As  the 
dog  is  the  natural  enemy  of  the  cat,  the  snake 
of  man,  so  were  we  of  the  fish  patrol  the 
natural  enemies  of  the  fishermen. 

But  it  is  to  show  that  they  could  act  gen 
erously  as  well  as  hate  bitterly  that  this  story 
of  Demetrios  Contos  is  told.  Demetrios  Con- 
tos  lived  in  Vallejo.  Next  to  Big  Alec,  he 
was  the  largest,  bravest,  and  most  influen 
tial  man  among  the  Greeks.  He  had  given 


DEMETRIOS   CONTOS       179 

<us  no  trouble,  and  I  doubt  if  he  would  ever 
have  clashed  with  us  had  he  not  invested 
in  a  new  salmon  boat.  This  boat  was  the 
cause  of  all  the  trouble.  He  had  had  it  built 
upon  his  own  model,  in  which  the  lines  of  the 
general  salmon  boat  were  somewhat  modified. 
To  his  high  elation  he  found  his  new  boat 
very  fast  —  in  fact,  faster  than  any  other 
boat  on  the  bay  or  rivers.  Forthwith  he 
grew  proud  and  boastful:  and,  our  raid 
with  the  Mary  Rebecca  on  the  Sunday  salmon 
fishers  having  wrought  fear  in  their  hearts, 
he  sent  a  challenge  up  to  Benicia.  One  of 
the  local  fishermen  conveyed  it  to  us ;  it  was 
to  the  effect  that  Demetrios  Contos  would  sail 
up  from  Vallejo  on  the  following  Sunday, 
and  in  the  plain  sight  of  Benicia  set  his  net 
and  catch  salmon,  and  that  Charley  Le  Grant, 
patrolman,  might  come  and  get  him  if  he 
could.  Of  course  Charley  and  I  had  heard 


i8o       DEMETRIOS  CONTOS 

nothing  of  the  new  boat.  Our  own  boat  was 
pretty  fast,  and  we  were  not  afraid  to  have  a 
brush  with  any  other  that  happened  along. 

Sunday  came.  The  challenge  had  been 
bruited  abroad,  and  the  fishermen  and  sea 
faring  folk  of  Benicia  turned  out  to  a  man, 
crowding  Steamboat  Wharf  till  it  looked  like 
the  grand  stand  at  a  football  match.  Charley 
and  I  had  been  sceptical,  but  the  fact  of  the 
crowd  convinced  us  that  there  was  something 
in  Demetrios  Contos's  dare. 

In  the  afternoon,  when  the  sea-breeze  had 
picked  up  in  strength,  his  sail  hove  into  view 
as  he  bowled  along  before  the  wind.  He 
tacked  a  score  of  feet  from  the  wharf,  waved 
his  hand  theatrically,  like  a  knight  about  to< 
enter  the  lists,  received  a  hearty  cheer  in 
return,  and  stood  away  into  the  Straits  for  a 
couple  of  hundred  yards.  Then  he  lowered 
sail,  and,  drifting  the  boat  sidewise  by  means 


DEMETRIOS   CONTOS        181 

of  the  wind,  proceeded  to  set  his  net.  He 
did  not  set  much  of  it,  possibly  fifty  feet ;  yet 
Charley  and  I  were  thunderstruck  at  the 
man's  effrontery.  We  did  not  know  at  the 
time,  but  we  learned  afterward,  that  the  net 
he  used  was  old  and  worthless.  It  could 
catch  fish,  true ;  but  a  catch  of  any  size  would 
have  torn  it  to  pieces. 

Charley  shook  his  head  and  said : 

"  I  confess,  it  puzzles  me.  What  if  he  has 
out  only  fifty  feet  ?  He  could  never  get  it  in 
if  we  once  started  for  him.  And  why  does 
he  come  here  inyway,  flaunting  his  law- 
breaking  in  our  faces  ?  Right  in  our  home 
town,  too." 

Charley's  voice  took  on  an  aggrieved  tone, 
an:1  he  continued  for  some  minutes  to  inveigh 
against  the  brazenness  of  Demetrios  Contos. 

In  the  meantime,  the  man  in  question  was 
lolling  in  the  stern  of  his  boat  and  watching 


DEMETRIOS   'JONTOS 

the  net  floats.  When  a  large  fish  is  meshed 
in  a  gill-net,  the  floats  by  their  agitation  ad 
vertise  the  fact.  And  they  evidently  adver 
tised  it  to  Demetrios,  for  he  pulled  in  about 
a  dozen  feet  of  net,  and  held  aloft  for  a  mo 
ment,  before  he  flung  it  into  the  bottom  of 
the  boat,  a  big,  glistening  salmon.  It  was 
greeted  by  the  audience  on  the  wharf  with 
round  after  round  of  cheers.  This  was  more 
than  Charley  could  stand. 

''Come  on,  lad,"  he  called  to  me;  and  we 
lost  no  time  jumping  into  our  salmon  boat 
and  getting  up  sail. 

The  crowd  shouted  warning  to  Demetrios, 
and  as  we  darted  out  from  the  wharf  we  saw 
him  slash  his  worthless  net  clear  with  a  long 
knife.  His  sail  was  all  ready  to  go  up,  and  a 
moment  later  it  fluttered  in  the  sunshine. 
He  ran  aft,  drew  in  the  sheet,  and  filled  on 
the  long  tack  toward  the  Contra  Costa  Hills. 


DEMETRIOS    CONTOS        185 

By  this  time  we  were  not  more  than  thirty 
feet  astern.  Charley  was  jubilant.  He  knew 
our  boat  was  fast,  and  he  knew,  further,  that 
in  fine  sailing  f:-w  men  were  his  equals. 
He  was  confident  tnat  we  should  surely  catch 
Demetrios,  and  I  shared  his  confidence.  But 
somehow  we  did  not  seem  to  gain. 

It  was  a  pretty  sailing  breeze.  We  were 
gliding  sleekly  through  the  water,  but  Deme 
trios  was  slowly  sliding  away  from  us.  And 
not  only  was  he  going  faster,  but  he  was  eat 
ing  into  the  wind  a  fraction  of  a  point  closer 
than  we.  This  was  sharply  impressed  upon 
us  when  he  went  about  under  the  Contra 
Costa  Hills  and  passed  us  on  the  other  tack 
fully  one  hundred  feet  dead  to  windward. 

"Whew!"  Charley  exclaimed.  "Either 
that  boat  is  a  daisy,  or  we've  got  a  five-gallorr 
coal -oil  can  fast  to  our  keel !" 

It  certainly  looked  it  one  way  or  the  other 


184       DEMETRIOS   CONTOS 

And  by  the  time  Demetrios  made  the  Sonoma 
Hills,  on  the  other  side  of  the  Straits,  we  were 
so  hopelessly  outdistanced  that  Charley  told 
me  to  slack  off  the  sheef^  and  we  squared 
away  for  Benicia.  The  fishermen  on  Steam 
boat  Wharf  showered  us  with  ridicule  when 
we  returned  and  tied  up.  Charley  and  I 
got  out  and  walked  away,  feeling  rather 
sheepish,  for  it  is  a  sore  stroke  to  one's  pride 
when  he  thinks  he  has  a  good  boat  and 
knows  how  to  sail  it,  and  another  man  comes 
along  and  beats  him. 

Charley  mooned  over  it  for  a  couple  of 
days ;  then  word  was  brought  to  us,  as  be 
fore,  that  on  the  next  Sunday  Demetrios  Con- 
tos  would  repeat  his  performance.  Charley 
roused  himself.  He  had  our  boat  out  of  the 
water,  cleaned  and  repainted  its  bottom, 
made  a  trifling  alteration  about  the  centre 
board,  overhauled  the  running  gear,  and  sat 


DEMETRIOS   CONTOS        185 

up  nearly  all  of  Saturday  night  sewing  on  a 
new  and  much  larger  sail.  So  large  did  he 
make  it,  in  fact,  that  additional  ballast  was 
imperative,  and  we  stowed  away  nearly  five 
hundred  extra  pounds  of  old  railroad  iron 
in  the  bottom  of  the  boat. 

Sunday  came,  and  with  it  came  Demetrios 
Contos,  to  break  the  law  defiantly  in  open 
day.  Again  we  had  the  afternoon  sea-breeze, 
and  again  Demetrios  cut  loose  some  forty  or 
more  feet  of  his  rotten  net,  and  got  up  sail 
and  under  way  under  our  very  noses.  But  he 
had  anticipated  Charley's  move,  and  his  own 
sail  peaked  higher  than  ever,  while  a  whole 
extra  cloth  had  been  added  to  the  after 
leech. 

It  was  nip  and  tuck  across  to  the  Contra 
Costa  Hills,  neither  of  us  seeming  to  gain  or 
to  lose.  But  by  the  time  we  had  made  the 
return  tack  to  the  Sonoma  Hills,  we  could  see 


1 86       DEMETRIOS   CONTOS 

that,  while  we  footed  it  at  about  equal  speed, 
Demetrios  had  eaten  into  the  wind  the  least 
bit  more  than  we.  Yet  Charley  was  sailing 
our  boat  as  finely  and  delicately  as  it  was 
possible  to  sail  it,  and  getting  more  out  of 
it  than  he  ever  had  before. 

Of  course,  he  could  have  drawn  his  revol 
ver  and  fired  at  Demetrios;  but  we  had  long 
since  found  it  contrary  to  our  natures  to  shoot 
at  a  fleeing  man  guilty  of  only  a  petty  offence. 
Also  a  sort  of  tacit  agreement  seemed  to  have 
been  reached  between  the  patrolmen  and  the 
fishermen.  If  we  did  not  shoot  while  they 
ran  away,  they,  in  turn,  did  not  fight  if  we 
once  laid  hands  on  them.  Thus  Demetrios 
Contos  ran  away  from  us,  and  we  did  no  more 
than  try  our  best  to  overtake  him,  and,  in 
turn,  if  our  boat  proved  faster  than  his,  or 
was  sailed  better,  he  would,  we  knew,  make 
no  resistance  when  we  caught  up  with  him. 


DEMETRIOS   CONTOS        187 

With  our  large  sails  and  the  healthy  breeze 
romping  up  the  Chrquinez  Straits,  we  found 
that  our  sailing  was  what  is  called  "ticklish." 
We  had  to  be  constantly  on  the  alert  to  avoid 
a  capsize,  and  while  Charley  steered  I  held 
the  main-sheet  in  my  hand  with  but  a  single 
turn  round  a  pin,  ready  to  let  go  at  any  mo 
ment.  Demetrios,  we  could  see,  sailing  his 
boat  alone,  had  his  hands  full. 

But  it  was  a  vain  undertaking  for  us  to 
attempt  to  catch  him.  Out  of  his  inner  con 
sciousness  he  had  evolved  a  boat  that  was 
better  than  ours.  And  though  Charley  sailed 
fully  as  well,  if  not  the  least  bit  better,  the 
boat  he  sailed  was  not  so  good  as  the  Greek's. 

"Slack  away  the  sheet,"  Charley  com 
manded;  and  as  our  boat  fell  off  before 
the  windj  Demetrios's  mocking  laugh  floated 
down  to  us. 

Charley  shook  his  head,  saying,  "It's  no 


i88        DEMETRIOS   CONTOS 

use.  Demetrios  has  the  better  boat.  If  he 
tries  his  performance  again,  we  must  meet  it 
with  some  new  scheme. " 

This  time  it  was  my  imagination  that 
came  to  the  rescue. 

"What's  the  matter,"  I  suggested,  on  the 
Wednesday  following,  "with  my  chasing  De 
metrios  in  the  boat  next  Sunday,  while  you 
wait  for  him  on  the  wharf  at  Vallejo  when  he 
arrives  ?" 

Charley  considered  it  a  moment  and  slapped 
his  knee. 

"A  good  idea!  You're  beginning  to  use 
that  head  of  yours.  A  credit  to  your  teacher, 
I  must  say." 

"But  you  mustn't  chase  him  too  far,"  he 
went  on,  the  next  moment,  "or  he'll  head  out 
into  San  Pablo  Bay  instead  of  running  home 
to  Vallejo,  and  there  I'll  be,  standing  lonely 
on  the  wharf  and  waiting  in  vain  for  him  to 
arrive." 


DEMETRIOS   CONTOS        189 

On  Thursday  Charley  registered  an  ob 
jection  to  my  plan. 

"  Everybody'll  know  I've  gone  to  Vallejo, 
and  you  can  depend  upon  it  that  Demetrios 
will  know,  too.  I'm  afraid  we'll  have  to  give 
up  the  idea." 

This  objection  was  only  too  valid,  and  for 
the  rest  of  the  day  I  struggled  under  my  dis 
appointment.  But  that  night  a  new  way 
seemed  to  open  to  me,  and  in  my  eagerness  I 
awoke  Charley  from  a  sound  sleep. 

"Well,"  he  grunted,  "what's  the  matter? 
House  afire?" 

"No,"  I  replied,  "but  my  head  is.  Listen 
to  this.  On  Sunday  you  and  I  will  be  around 
Benicia  up  to  the  very  moment  Demetrios's 
sail  heaves  into  sight.  This  will  lull  every 
body's  suspicions.  Then,  when  Demetrios's 
sail  does  heave  in  sight,  do  you  stroll  leisurely 
away  and  up-town.  All  the  fishermen  will 


190       DEMETRIOS   CONTOS 

think  you're  beaten  and  that  you  know  you're 
beaten." 

"So  far,  so  good,"  Charley  commented, 
while  I  paused  to  catch  breath. 

"And  very  good  indeed,"  I  continued 
proudly.  "You  stroll  carelessly  up-town, 
but  when  you're  once  out  of  sight  you  leg  it 
for  all  you're  worth  for  Dan  Maloney's. 
Take  the  little  mare  of  his,  and  strike  out  on 
the  county  road  for  Vallejo.  The  road's  in 
fine  condition,  and  you  can  make  it  in  quicker 
time  than  Demetrios  can  beat  all  the  way 
down  against  the  wind." 

"And  I'll  arrange  right  away  for  the  mare, 
first  thing  in  the  morning,"  Charley  said, 
accepting  the  modified  plan  without  hesita 
tion. 

"  But,  I  say,"  he  said,  a  little  later,  this  time 
waking  me  out  of  a  sound  sleep. 

I  could  hear  him  chuckling  in  the  dark. 


DEMETRIOS   CONTOS       191 

"  I  say,  lad,  isn't  it  rather  a  novelty  for  the 
fish  patrol  to  be  taking  to  horseback  ?" 

"Imagination,"  I  answered.  "It's  what 
you're  always  preaching  —  *  keep  thinking 
one  thought  ahead  of  the  other  fellow.,  and 
you're  bound  to  win  out." 

"He!  he!"  he  chuckled.  "And  if  ona 
thought  ahead,  including  a  mare,  doesn't 
take  the  other  fellow's  breath  away  this  time, 
I'm  not  your  humble  servant,  Charley  Le 
Grant." 

"But  can  you  manage  the  boat  alone?" 
he  asked,  on  Friday.  "Remember,  we've  a 
ripping  big  sail  on  her." 

I  argued  my  proficiency  so  well  that  he 
did  not  refer  to  the  matter  again  till  Saturday, 
when  he  suggested  removing  one  whole  cloth 
from  the  after  leech.  I  guess  it  was  the  dis 
appointment  written  on  my  face  that  made 
him  desist;  for  I,  also,  had  a  pride  in  my 


192        DEMETRIOS   CONTOS 

boat-sailing  abilities,  and  I  was  almost  wild 
to  get  out  alone  with  the  big  sail  and  go  tear 
ing  down  the  Carquinez  Straits  in  the  wake 
of  the  flying  Greek. 

As  usual,  Sunday  and  Demetrios  Contos 
arrived  together.  It  had  become  the  regular 
thing  for  the  fishermen  to  assemble  on  Steam 
boat  Wharf  to  greet  his  arrival  and  to  laugh 
at  our  discomfiture.  He  lowered  sail  a 
couple  of  hundred  yards  out  and  set  his  cus 
tomary  fifty  feet  of  rotten  net. 

"I  suppose  this  nonsense  will  keep  up  as 
long  as  his  old  net  holds  out,"  Charley 
grumbled,  with  intention,  in  the  hearing  of 
several  of  the  Greeks. 

"Den  I  give-a  heem  my  old-a  net-a,"  one  of 
them  spoke  up,  promptly  and  maliciously. 

"I  don't  care,"  Charley  answered.  "I've 
got  some  old  net  myself  he  can  have  —  if  he'll 
come  around  and  ask  for  it." 


DEMETRIOS   CONTOS        193 

They  all  laughed  at  this,  for  they  could 
afford  to  be  sweet-tempered  with  a  man  so 
badly  outwitted  as  Charley  was. 

"Well,  so  long,  lad,"  Charley  called  to  me 
a  moment  later.  "  I  think  I'll  go  up-town  to 
Maloney's." 

"Let  me  take  the  boat  out  ?"  I  asked. 

"If  you  want  to,"  was  his  answer,  as  he 
turned  on  his  heel  and  walked  slowly  away. 

Demetrios  pulled  two  large  salmon  out  of 
his  net,  and  I  jumped  into  the  boat.  The 
fishermen  crowded  around  in  a  spirit  of  fun, 
and  when  I  started  to  get  up  sail  overwhelmed 
me  with  all  sorts  of  jocular  advice.  They 
even  offered  extravagant  bets  to  one  another 
that  I  would  surely  catch  Demetrios,  and  two 
of  them,  styling  themselves  the  committee  of 
judges,  gravely  asked  permission  to  come 
along  with  me  to  see  how  I  did  it. 

But  I  was  in  no  hurry.     I  waited  to  give 


194       DEMETRIOS    CONTOS 

Charley  all  the  time  I  could,  and  I  pretended 
dissatisfaction  with  the  stretch  of  the  sail  and 
slightly  shifted  the  small  tackle  by  which  the 
huge  sprit  forces  up  the  peak.  It  was  not 
until  I  was  sure  that  Charley  had  reached 
Dan  Maloney's  and  was  on  the  little  mare's 
back,  that  I  cast  off  from  the  wharf  and  gave 
the  big  sail  to  the  wind.  A  stout  puff  filled  it 
and  suddenly  pressed  the  lee  gunwale  down 
till  a  couple  of  buckets  of  water  came  inboard. 
A  little  thing  like  this  will  happen  to  the  best 
small-boat  sailors,  and  yet,  though  I  instantly 
let  go  the  sheet  and  righted,  I  was  cheered 
sarcastically,  as  though  I  had  been  guiky  of 
a  very  awkward  blunder. 

When  Demetrios  saw  only  one  person  in 
the  fish  patrol  boat,  and  that  one  a  boy,  he 
proceeded  to  play  with  me.  Making  a  short 
tack  out,  with  me  not  thirty  feet  behind, 
he  returned,  with  his  sheet  a  little  free,, 


DEMETRIOS   CONTOS       195 

to  Steamboat  Wharf.  And  there  he  made 
short  tacks,  and  turned  and  twisted  and 
ducked  around,  to  the  great  delight  of  his 
sympathetic  audience.  I  was  right  behind 
him  all  the  time,  and  I  dared  to  do  whatever 
he  did,  even  when  he  squared  away  before 
the  wind  and  jibed  his  big  sail  over  —  a  most 
dangerous  trick  with  such  a  sail  in  such  a 
wind. 

He  depended  upon  the  brisk  sea  breeze 
and  the  strong  ebb  tide,  which  together  kicked 
up  a  nasty  sea,  to  bring  me  to  grief.  But 
I  was  on  my  mettle,  and  never  in  all  my  life 
did  I  sail  a  boat  better  than  on  that  day  I 
was  keyed  up  to  concert  pitch,  my  brain  was 
working  smoothly  and  quickly,  my  hands 
never  fumbled  once,  and  it  seemed  that  I 
almost  divined  the  thousand  little  things 
which  a  small-boat  sailor  must  be  taking  into 
consideration  every  second. 


196        DEMETRIOS   CONTOS 

It  was  Demetrios  who  came  to  grief  instead, 
Something  went  wrong  with  his  centre-board, 
so  that  it  jammed  in  the  case  and  would  not 
go  all  the  way  down.  In  a  moment's  breath 
ing  space,  which  he  had  gained  from  me  by 
a  clever  trick,  I  saw  him  working  impatiently 
with  the  centre-board,  trying  to  force  it  down. 
I  gave  him  little  time,  and  he  was  compelled 
quickly  to  return  to  the  tiller  and  sheet. 

The  centre-board  made  him  anxious.  He 
gave  over  playing  with  me,  and  started  on 
the  long  beat  to  Vallejo.  To  my  joy,  on  the 
first  long  tack  across,  I  found  that  I  could  eat 
into  the  wind  just  a  little  bit  closer  than  he. 
Here  was  where  another  man  in  the  boat 
would  have  been  of  value  to  him ;  for,  with 
me  but  a  few  feet  astern,  he  did  not  dare  let 
go  the  tiller  and  run  amidships  to  try  to  force 
down  the  centre-board. 

Unable  to  hang  on  as  close  in  the  eye  of 


DEMETRIOS   CONTOS        197 

the  wind  as  formerly,  he  proceeded  to  slack 
his  sheet  a  trifle  and  to  ease  off  a  bit,  in  order 
to  outfoot  me.  This  I  permitted  him  to  da 
till  I  had  worked  to  windward,  when  I  bore 
down  upon  him.  As  I  drew  close,  he  feinted 
at  coming  about.  This  led  me  to  shoot  into 
the  wind  to  forestall  him.  But  it  was  only 
a  feint,  cleverly  executed,  and  he  held  back 
to  his  course  while  I  hurried  to  make  up  lost 
ground. 

He  was  undeniably  smarter  than  I  when 
it  came  to  manoeuvring.  Time  after  time 
I  all  but  had  him,  and  each  time  he  tricked 
me  and  escaped.  Besides,  the  wind  was 
freshening  constantly,  and  each  of  us  had 
his  hands  full  to  avoid  capsizing.  As  for  my 
boat,  it  could  not  have  been  kept  afloat  buf. 
for  the  extra  ballast.  I  sat  cocked  over  the 
weather  gunwale,  tiller  in  one  hand  and  sheet 
in  the  other;  and  the  sheet,  with  a  single 


198        DEMETRIOS    CONTOS 

turn  around  a  pin,  I  was  very  often  forced  to 
let  go  in  the  severer  puffs.  This  allowed  the 
sail  to  spill  the  wind,  which  was  equivalent 
to  taking  off  so  much  driving  power,  and  of 
course  I  lost  ground.  My  consolation  was 
that  Demetrios  was  as  often  compelled  to  do 
the  same  thing. 

The  strong  ebb-tide,  racing  down  the  Straits 
in  the  teeth  of  the  wind,  caused  an  unusually 
heavy  and  spiteful  sea,  which  dashed  aboard 
continually.  I  was  dripping  wet,  and  even 
the  sail  was  wet  half-way  up  the  after  leech. 
Once  I  did  succeed  in  outmanoeuvring 
Demetrios,  so  that  my  bow  bumped  into  him 
amidships.  Here  was  where  I  should  have 
had  another  man.  Before  I  could  run  for 
ward  and  leap  aboard,  he  shoved  the  boats 
apart  with  an  oar,  laughing  mockingly  in  my 
face  as  he  did  so. 

We  were  now  at  the  mouth  of  the  Straits, 


DEMETRIOS    CONTOS        199 

in  a  bad  stretch  of  water.  Here  the  Vallejo 
Straits  and  the  Carquinez  Straits  rushed 
directly  at  each  other.  Through  the  first 
flowed  all  the  water  of  Napa  River  and  the 
great  tide-lands;  through  the  second  flowed 
all  the  water  of  Suisun  Bay  and  the  Sacra 
mento  and  San  Joaquin  rivers.  And  where 
such  immense  bodies  of  water,  flowing 
swiftly,  clashed  together,  a  terrible  tide-rip 
was  produced.  To  make  it  worse,  the  wind 
howled  up  San  Pablo  Bay  for  fifteen  miles  and 
drove  in  a  tremendous  sea  upon  the  tide-rip. 
Conflicting  currents  tore  about  in  all  direc 
tions,  colliding,  forming  whirlpools,  sucks, 
and  boils,  and  shooting  up  spitefully  into 
hollow  waves  which  fell  aboard  as  often  from 
leeward  as  from  windward.  And  through 
it  all,  confused,  driven  into  a  madness  of 
motion,  thundered  the  great  smoking  seas 
from  San  Pablo  Bay. 


200       DEMETRIOS    CONTOS 

I  was  as  wildly  excited  as  the  water.  The 
boat  was  behaving  splendidly,  leaping  and 
lurching  through  the  welter  like  a  race-horse. 
I  could  hardly  contain  myself  with  the  joy 
of  it.  The  huge  sail,  the  howling  wind,  the 
driving  seas,  the  plunging  boat  —  I,  a  pygmy, 
a  mere  speck  in  the  midst  of  it,  wras  mastering 
the  elemental  strife,  flying  through  it  and 
over  it,  triumphant  and  victorious. 

And  just  then,  as  I  roared  along  like  a  con 
quering  hero,  the  boat  received  a  frightful 
smash  and  came  instantly  to  a  dead  stop.  I 
was  flung  forward  and  into  the  bottom. 
As  I  sprang  up  I  caught  a  fleeting  glimpse  of 
a  greenish,  barnacle-covered  object,  and  knew 
it  at  once  for  what  it  was,  that  terror  of  navi 
gation,  a  sunken  pile.  No  man  may  guard 
against  such  a  thing.  Water-logged  and 
floating  just  beneath  the  surface,  it  was  im 
possible  to  sight  it  in  the  troubled  water  in 
time  to  escape. 


DEMETRIOS   CONTOS       201 

The  whole  bow  of  the  boat  must  have  been 
crushed  in,  for  in  a  few  seconds  the  boat  was 
half  full.  Then  a  couple  of  seas  filled  it,  and 
it  sank  straight  down,  dragged  to  bottom  by 
the  heavy  ballast.  So  quickly  did  it  all 
happen  that  I  was  entangled  in  the  sail  and 
drawn  under.  When  I  fought  my  way  to 
the  surface,  suffocating,  my  lungs  almost 
bursting,  I  could  see  nothing  of  the  oars. 
They  must  have  been  swept  away  by  the 
chaotic  currents.  I  saw  Demetrios  Contos 
looking  back  from  his  boat,  and  heard  the 
vindictive  and  mocking  tones  of  his  voice  as 
he  shouted  exultantly.  He  held  steadily  on 
his  course,  leaving  me  to  perish. 

There  was  nothing  to  do  but  to  swim  for 
it,  which,  in  that  wild  confusion,  was  at  the 
best  a  matter  of  but  a  few  moments.  Hold 
ing  my  breath  and  working  with  my  hands, 
I  managed  to  get  off  my  heavy  sea-boots  and 


202       DEMETRIOS   CONTOS 

my  jacket.  Yet  there  was  very  little  breath 
I  could  catch  to  hold,  and  I  swiftly  discovered 
that  it  was  not  so  much  a  matter  of  swimming 
as  of  breathing. 

I  was  beaten  and  buffeted,  smashed  under 
by  the  great  San  Pablo  whitecaps,  and 
strangled  by  the  hollow  tide-rip  waves  which 
flung  themselves  into  my  eyes,  nose,  and 
mouth.  Then  the  strange  sucks  would  grip 
my  legs  and  drag  me  under,  to  spout  me  up 
in  some  fierce  boiling,  where,  even  as  I  tried 
to  catch  my  breath,  a  great  whitecap  would 
crash  down  upon  my  head. 

It  was  impossible  to  survive  any  length  of 
time.  I  was  breathing  more  water  than  air, 
and  drowning  all  the  time.  My  senses  began 
to  leave  me,  my  head  to  whirl  around.  I 
struggled  on,  spasmodically,  instinctively,  and 
was  barely  half  conscious  when  I  felt  myself 
caught  by  the  shoulders  and  hauled  over  the 
gunwale  of  a  boat. 


DEMETRIOS   CONTOS        203 

For  some  time  I  lay  across  a  seat  where  I 
had  been  flung,  face  downward,  and  with  the 
water  running  out  of  my  mouth.  After  a 
while,  still  weak  and  faint,  I  turned  around 
to  see  who  was  my  rescuer.  And  there,  in 
the  stern,  sheet  in  one  hand  and  tiller  in  the 
other,  grinning  and  nodding  good-naturedly, 
sat  Demetrios  Contos.  He  had  intended  to 
leave  me  to  drown,  —  he  said  so  afterward,  - 
but  his  better  self  had  fought  the  battle,  con 
quered,  and  sent  him  back  to  me. 

"You  all-a  right?"    he  asked. 

I  managed  to  shape  a  "yes"  on  my  lips, 
though  I  could  not  yet  speak. 

"You  sail-a  de  boat  verr-a  good-a,"  he 
said.  "So  good-a  as  a  man." 

A  compliment  from  Demetrios  Contos  was 
a  compliment  indeed,  and  I  keenly  appreci 
ated  it,  though  I  could  only  nod  my  head  in 
acknowledgment. 


DEMETRIOS   CONTOS 

We  held  no  more  conversation,  for  I  was 
busy  recovering  and  he  was  busy  with  the 
boat.  He  ran  in  to  the  wharf  at  Vallejo, 
made  the  boat  fast,  and  helped  me  out.  Then 
it  was,  as  we  both  stood  on  the  wharf,  that 
Charley  stepped  out  from  behind  a  net-rack 
and  put  his  hand  on  Demetrios  Contos's 
arm. 

"He  saved  my  life,  Charley,"  I  protested; 
"and  I  don't  think  he  ought  to  be  arrested/' 

A  puzzled  expression  came  into  Charley's 
face,  which  cleared  immediately  after,  in  a 
way  it  had  when  he  made  up  his  mind. 

"I  can't  help  it,  lad,"  he  said  kindly.  "I 
can't  go  back  on  my  duty,  and  it's  plain  duty 
to  arrest  him.  To-day  is  Sunday;  there  are 
two  salmon  in  his  boat  which  he  caught 
to-day.  What  else  can  I  do?" 

"  But  he  saved  my  life,"  I  persisted,  unable 
to  make  any  other  argument. 


DEMETRIOS   CONTOS        205 

Demetrios  Contos's  face  went  black  with 
rage  when  he  learned  Charley's  judgment. 
He  had  a  sense  of  being  unfairly  treated. 
The  better  part  of  his  nature  had  triumphed, 
he  had  performed  a  generous  act  and  saved 
a  helpless  enemy,  and  in  return  the  enemy 
was  taking  him  to  jail. 

Charley  and  I  were  out  of  sorts  with  each 
other  when  we  went  back  to  Benicia.  I 
stood  for  the  spirit  of  the  law  and  not  the 
letter;  but  by  the  letter  Charley  made  his 
stand.  As  far  as  he  could  see,  there  was 
nothing  else  for  him  to  do.  The  law  said 
distinctly  that  no  salmon  should  be  caught 
on  Sunday.  He  was  a  patrolman,  and  it  was 
his  duty  to  enforce  that  law.  That  was  all 
there  was  to  it.  He  had  done  his  duty,  and 
his  conscience  was  clear.  Nevertheless,  the 
whole  thing  seemed  unjust  to  me,  and  I  felt 
very  sorry  for  Demetrios  Contos. 


206       DEMETRIOS   CONTOS 

Two  days  later  we  went  down  to  Vallejo 
to  the  trial.  I  had  to  go  along  as  a  witness, 
and  it  was  the  most  hateful  task  that  I  ever 
performed  in  my  life  when  I  testified  on  the 
witness  stand  to  seeing  Demetrios  catch  the 
two  salmon  Charley  had  captured  him  with. 

Demetrios  had  engaged  a  lawyer,  but  his 
case  was  hopeless.  The  jury  was  out  only  fif 
teen  minutes,  and  returned  a  verdict  of  guilty. 
The  judge  sentenced  Demetrios  to  pay  a  fine  of 
one  hundred  dollars  or  go  to  jail  for  fifty  days. 

Charley  stepped  up  to  the  clerk  of  the  court. 
"  I  want  to  pay  that  fine,"  he  said,  at  the  same 
time  placing  five  twenty-dollar  gold  pieces  on 
the  desk.  "  It  —  it  was  the  only  way  out  of 
it,  lad,"  he  stammered,  turning  to  me. 

The  moisture  rushed  into  my  eyes  as  I 
seized  his  hand.  "  I  want  to  pay  — "I  began. 

"To  pay  your  half?"  he  interrupted.  "I 
certainly  shall  expect  you  to  pay  it." 


DEMETRIOS    CONTOS        207 

In  the  meantime  Demetrios  had  been  in 
formed  by  his  lawyer  that  his  fee  likewise  had 
been  paid  by  Charley. 

Demetrios  came  over  to  shake  Charley's 
hand,  and  all  his  warm  Southern  blood 
flamed  in  his  face.  Then,  not  to  be  outdone 
in  generosity,  he  insisted  on  paying  his  fine 
and  lawyer's  fee  himself,  and  flew  half-way 
into  a  passion  because  Charley  refused  to  let 
him. 

More  than  anything  else  we  ever  did,  I 
think,  this  action  of  Charley's  impressed  upon 
the  fishermen  the  deeper  significance  of  the 
law.  Also  Charley  was  raised  high  in  their 
esteem,  while  I  came  in  for  a  little  share  of 
praise  as  a  boy  who  knew  how  to  sail  a  boat. 
Demetrios  Contos  not  only  never  broke  the 
law  again,  but  he  became  a  very  good  friend 
of  ours,  and  on  more  than  one  occasion  he 
ran  up  to  Benicia  to  have  a  gossip  with  us. 


VII 
YELLOW  HANDKERCHIEF 


YELLOW   HANDKERCHIEF 

T'M  not  wanting  to  dictate  to  you,  lad," 

Charley  said;  "but    Fm    very    much 

against   your  making     a     last     raid. 

You've  gone  safely  through  rough  times  with 

rough  men,  and  it  would  be  a  shame  to  have 

something  happen  to  you  at  the  very  end." 

"  But  how  can  I  get  out  of  making  a  last 
raid  ?"  I  demanded,  with  the  cocksureness 
of  youth.  "  There  always  has  to  be  a  last, 
you  know,  to  anything." 

Charley  crossed  his  legs,  leaned  back,  and 
considered  the  problem.  "Very  true.  But 
why  not  call  the  capture  of  Demetrios  Contos 
the  last  ?  You're  back  from  it  safe  and 
sound  and  hearty,  for  all  your  good  wetting, 
and  —  and  — "  His  voice  broke  and  he 


211 


212     YELLOW    HANDKERCHIEF 

could  not  speak  for  a  moment.  "And  I 
could  never  forgive  myself  if  anything  hap 
pened  to  you  now." 

I  laughed  at  Charley's  fears  while  I  gave 
in  to  the  claims  of  his  affection,  and  agreed 
to  consider  the  last  raid  already  performedo 
We  had  been  together  for  two  years,  and  now 
I  was  leaving  the  fish  patrol  in  order  to  go 
back  and  finish  my  education.  I  had  earned 
and  saved  money  to  put  me  through  three 
years  at  the  high  school,  and  though  the 
beginning  of  the  term  was  several  months 
away,  I  intended  doing  a  lot  of  studying  for 
the  entrance  examinations. 

My  belongings  were  packed  snugly  in  a 
sea-chest,  and  I  was  all  ready  to  buy  my 
ticket  and  ride  down  on  the  train  to  Oak 
land,  when  Neil  Partington  arrived  in  Beni- 
cia.  The  Reindeer  was  needed  immediately 
for  work  far  down  on  the  Lower  Bay,  and 


YELLOW    HANDKERCHIEF     213 

Neil  said  he  intended  to  run  straight  for  Oak 
land.  As  that  was  his  home  and  as  I  was 
to  live  with  his  family  while  going  to  school, 
he  saw  no  reason,  he  said,  why  I  should  not 
put  my  chest  aboard  and  come  along. 

So  the  chest  went  aboard,  and  in  the 
middle  of  the  afternoon  we  hoisted  the  Rein 
deer  s  big  mainsail  and  cast  off.  It  was  tan 
talizing  fall  weather.  The  sea-breeze,  which 
had  blown  steadily  all  summer,  was  gone, 
and  in  its  place  were  capricious  winds  and 
murky  skies  which  made  the  time  of  arriv 
ing  anywhere  extremely  problematical.  We 
started  on  the  first  of  the  ebb,  and  as  we 
slipped  down  the  Carquinez  Straits,  I  looked 
my  last  for  some  time  upon  Benicia  and  the 
bight  at  Turners  Shipyard,  where  we  had 
besieged  the  Lancashire  Queen,  and  had 
captured  Big  Alec,  the  King  of  the  Greeks. 
And  at  the  mouth  of  the  Straits  I  looked  with 


214     YELLOW    HANDKERCHIEF 

not  a  little  interest  upon  the  spot  where  a 
few  days  before  I  should  have  drowned  but 
for  the  good  that  was  in  the  nature  of  Deme- 
trios  Contos. 

A  great  wall  of  fog  advanced  across  San 
Pablo  Bay  to  meet  us,  and  in  a  few  minutes 
the  Reindeer  was  running  blindly  through  the 
damp  obscurity.  Charley,  who  was  steering, 
seemed  to  have  an  instinct  for  that  kind  of 
work.  How  he  did  it,  he  himself  confessed 
that  he  did  not  know;  but  he  had  a  way 
of  calculating  winds,  currents,  distance, 
time,  drift,  and  sailing  speed  that  was  truly 
marvellous. 

"It  looks  as  though  it  were  lifting/'  Neil 
Partington  said,  a  couple  of  hours  after  we 
had  entered  the  fog.  "Where  do  you  say  we 
are,  Charley?" 

Charley  looked  at  his  watch.  '"Six  o'clock, 
and  three  hours  more  of  ebb,"  he  remarked 
casually. 


YELLOW    HANDKERCHIEF     215 

"But  where  do  you  say  we  are?"  Neil 
insisted, 

Charley  pondered  a  moment,  and  then 
answered,  "The  tide  has  edged  us  over  a 
bit  out  of  our  course,  but  if  the  fog  lifts  right 
now,  as  it  is  going  to  lift,  you'll  find  we're 
not  more  than  a  thousand  miie^  off  McN^ar  s 
Landing." 

"You  might  be  a  little  more  definite  by  a 
few  miles,  anyway/'  Neil  grumbled,  showing 
by  his  tone  that  he  disagreed. 

"All  right,  then,"  Charley  said,  conclu 
sively,  "not  less  than  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  not 
more  than  a  half." 

The  wind  freshened  with  a  couple  of  little 
puffs,  and  the  fog  thinned  perceptibly. 

"McNear's  is  right  off  there,"  Charley 
said,  pointing  directly  «nto  the  fog  on  our 
weather  beam. 

The  thf^e  of  us  were  peering  intently  in 


2i6     YELLOW    HANDKERCHIEF 

that  direction,  when  the  Reindeer  struck  with 
a  dull  crash  and  came  to  a  standstill.  We 
ran  forward,  and  found  her  bowsprit  en 
tangled  in  the  tanned  rigging  of  a  short, 
chunky  mast.  She  had  collided,  head  on, 
with  a  Chinese  junk  lying  at  anchor. 

At  the  moment  we  arrived  forward,  five 
Chinese,  like  so  many  bees,  came  swarming 
out  of  the  little  'tween-decks  cabin,  the 
sleep  still  in  their  eyes. 

Leading  them  came  a  big,  muscular  man, 
conspicuous  for  his  pock-marked  face  and 
the  yellow  silk  handkerchief  swathed  about 
his  head.  It  was  Yellow  Handkerchief,  the 
Chinaman  whom  we  had  arrested  for  illegal 
shrimp-fishing  the  year  before,  and  who,  at 
that  time,  had  nearly  sunk  the  Reindeer,  as 
he  had  nearly  sunk  it  now  by  violating  the 
rules  of  navigation. 

"What  d'ye  mean,  you  yellow-faced   hea- 


YELLOW    HANDKERCHIEF     217 

then,  lying  here  in  a  fairway  without  a  horn 
a-going  ?"  Charley  cried  hotly. 

"Mean?"  Neil  calmly  answered.  "Just 
take  a  look  —  that's  what  he  means." 

Our  eyes  followed  the  direction  indicated 
by  Neil's  finger,  and  we  saw  the  open  amid 
ships  of  the  junk,  half  filled,  as  we  found 
on  closer  examination,  with  fresh-caught 
shrimps.  Mingled  with  the  shrimps  were 
myriads  of  small  fish,  from  a  quarter  of  an 
inch  upward  in  size.  Yellow  Handkerchief 
had  lifted  the  trap-net  at  high-water  slack, 
and,  taking  advantage  of  the  concealment 
offered  by  the  fog,  had  boldly  been  lying  by, 
waiting  to  lift  the  net  again  at  low-water  slack. 

"Weil,"  Neil  hummed  and  hawed,  "in 
all  my  varied  and  extensive  experience  as  a 
fish  patrolman,  I  must  say  this  is  the  easiest 
capture  I  ever  made.  What'll  we  do  with 
them,  Charley  ? " 


218     YELLOW    HANDKERCHIEF 

"Tow  the  junk  into  San  Rafael,  of  course/' 
came  the  answer,  Charley  turned  to  me, 
"You  stand  by  the  junk,  lad,  and  I'll  past' 
you  a  towing  line.  If  the  wind  doesn't  fail 
us,  we'll  make  the  creek  before  the  tide  gets 
too  low,  sleep  at  San  Rafael,  and  arrive  in 
Oakland  to-morrow  by  midday." 

So  saying,  Charley  and  Neil  returned  to 
the  Reindeer  and  got  under  way,  the  junk 
towing  astern.  I  went  aft  and  took  charge 
of  the  .prize,  steering  by  means  of  an  anti 
quated  tiller  and  a  rudder  with  large,  dia 
mond-shaped  holes,  through  which  the  water 
rushed  back  and  forth. 

By  now  the  last  of  the  fog  had  vanished, 
and  Charley's  estimate  of  our  position  was 
confirmed  by  the  sight  of  McNear's  Landing 
a  short  half-mile  away.  Following  along  the 
west  shore,  we  rounded  Point  Pedro  in  plain 
view  of  the  Chinese  shrimp  villages,  and  a 


YELLOW    HANDKERCHIEF     219 

great  to-do  was  raised  when  they  saw  one  of 
their  junks  towing  behind  the  familiar  fish 
patrol  sloop. 

The  wind,  coming  off  the  land,  was  rather 
puffy  and  uncertain,  and  it  would  have  been 
more  to  our  advantage  had  it  been  stronger. 
San  Rafael  Creek,  up  which  we  had  to  go  to 
reach  the  town  and  turn  over  our  prisoners 
to  the  authorities,  ran  through  \vide-stretch* 
ing  marshes,  and  was  difficult  to  navigate  on 
a  falling  tide,  while  at  low  tide  it  was  impos 
sible  to  navigate  at  all.  So,  with  the  tide 
already  half-ebbed,  it  was  necessary  for  us  to 
make  time.  This  the  heavy  junk  prevented, 
lumbering  along  behind  and  holding  the  Rein- 
Jeer  back  by  just  so  much  dead  weight. 

"Tell  those  coolies  to  get  up  that  sail," 
Charley  finally  called  to  me.  "We  don't 
want  to  hang  up  on  the  mud  flats  for  the  rest 
of  the  night." 


220    YELLOW    HANDKERCHIEF 

I  repeated  the  order  to  Yellow  Handker 
chief,  who  mumbled  it  huskily  to  his  men. 
He  was  suffering  from  a  bad  cold,  which 
doubled  him  up  in  convulsive  coughing  spells 
and  made  his  eyes  heavy  and  bloodshot. 
This  made  him  more  evil-looking  than  ever, 
and  when  he  glared  viciously  at  me  I  remem 
bered  with  a  shiver  the  close  shave  I  had  had 
with  him  at  the  time  of  his  previous  arrest. 

His  crew  sullenly  tailed  on  to  the  halyards, 
and  the  strange,  outlandish  sail,  lateen  in 
rig  and  dyed  a  warm  brown,  rose  in  the  air. 
We  were  sailing  on  the  wind,  and  when  Yel 
low  Handkerchief  flattened  down  the  sheet 
the  junk  forged  ahead  and  the  tow-line  went 
slack.  Fast  as  the  Reindeer  could  sail,  the 
junk  outsailed  her;  and  to  avoid  running 
her  down  I  hauled  a  little  closer  on  the  windo 
But  the  junk  likewise  outpointed,  and  in  a 
couple  of  minutes  I  was  abreast  of  the  Rein- 


YELLOW    HANDKERCHIEF     221 

deer  and  to  windward.  The  tow-line  had 
now  tautened,  at  right  angles  to  the  two  boats, 
and  the  predicament  was  laughable. 

"Cast  off!"    I  shouted. 

Charley  hesitated. 

"It's  all  right,"  I  added.  "Nothing  can 
happen.  We'll  make  the  creek  on  this  tack, 
and  you'll  be  right  behind  me  all  the  way  up 
to  San  Rafael." 

At  this  Charley  cast  off,  and  Yellow  Hand 
kerchief  sent  one  of  his  men  forward  to  haul 
in  the  line.  In  the  gathering  darkness  I 
could  just  make  out  the  mouth  of  San  Rafael 
Creek,  and  by  the  time  we  entered  it  I  could 
barely  see  its  banks.  The  Reindeer  was 
fully  five  minutes  astern,  and  we  continued 
to  leave  her  astern  as  we  beat  up  the  narrow, 
'winding  channel.  With  Charley  behind  us, 
it  seemed  I  had  little  to  fear  from  my  five 
prisoners:  but  the  darkness  prevented  my 


222     YELLOW    HANDKERCHIEF 

keeping  a  sharp  eye  on  them,  so  I  transferred 
my  revolver  from  my  trousers  pocket  to  the 
side  pocket  of  my  coat,  where  I  could  more 
quickly  put  my  hand  on  it. 

Yellow  Handkerchief  was  the  one  I  feared, 
and  that  he  knew  it  and  made  use  of  it,  sub 
sequent  events  will  show.  He  was  sitting  a 
few  feet  away  from  me,  on  what  then  hap 
pened  to  be  the  weather  side  of  the  junk. 
I  could  scarcely  see  the  outlines  of  his  form, 
but  I  soon  became  convinced  that  he  was 
slowrly,  very  slowly,  edging  closer  to  me.  I 
watched  him  carefully.  Steering  with  my 
left  hand,  I  slipped  my  right  into  my  pocket 
and  got  hold  of  the  revolver. 

I  saw  him  shift  along  for  a  couple  of  inches, 
and  I  was  just  about  to  order  him  back  —  the, 
words  were  trembling  on  the  tip  of  my  tongue 
—  when  I  was  struck  with  great  force  by  a 
heavy  figure  that  had  leaped  through  the  air 


YELLOW    HANDKERCHIEF     223 

upon  me  from  the  lee  side.  It  was  one  of  the 
crew.  He  pinioned  my  right  arm  so  that  I 
could  not  withdraw  my  hand  from  my  pocket, 
and  at  the  same  time  clapped  his  other  hand 
over  my  mouth.  Of  course,  I  could  have 
struggled  away  from  him  and  freed  my  hand 
or  gotten  my  mouth  clear  so  that  I  might  cry 
an  alarm,  but  in  a  trice  Yellow  Handkerchief 
was  on  top  of  me. 

I  struggled  around  to  no  purpose  in  the 
bottom  of  the  junk,  while  my  legs  and  arms 
were  tied  and  my  mouth  securely  bound  in 
what  I  afterward  found  to  be  a  cotton  shirt. 
Then  I  was  left  lying  in  the  bottom.  Yellow 
Handkerchief  took  the  tiller,  issuing  his 
orders  in  whispers;  and  from  our  position 
at  the  time,  and  from  the  alteration  of  the 
sail,  which  I  could  dimly  make  out  above 
me  as  a  blot  against  the  stars,  I  knew  the 
junk  was  being  headed  into  the  mouth  of  a 


224     YELLOW    HANDKERCHIEF 

small  slough  which  emptied  at  that  point  into 
San  Rafael  Creek. 

In  a  couple  of  minutes  we  ran  softly  along 
side  the  bank,  and  the  sail  was  silently 
lowered.  The  Chinese  kept  very  quiet. 
Yellow  Handkerchief  sat  down  in  the  bottom 
alongside  of  me,  and  I  could  feel  him  strain 
ing  to  repress  his  raspy,  hacking  cough.  Pos 
sibly  seven  or  eight  minutes  later  I  heard 
Charley's  voice  as  the  Reindeer  went  past 
the  mouth  of  the  slough. 

"I  can't  tell  you  how  relieved  I  am,"  I 
could  plainly  hear  him  saying  to  Neil,  "that 
the  lad  has  finished  with  the  fish  patrol 
without  accident." 

Here  Neil  said  something  which  I  could 
not  catch,  and  then  Charley's  voice  went  on:( 

"The  youngster  takes  naturally  to  the 
water,  and  if,  when  he  finishes  high  school, 
he  takes  a  course  in  navigation  and  goes  deep 


YELLOW    HANDKERCHIEF     225 

sea,  I  see  no  reason  why  he  shouldn't  rise  to 
be  master  of  the  finest  and  biggest  ship  afloat." 

It  was  all  very  flattering  to  me,  but  lying 
there,  bound  and  gagged  by  my  own  prisoners, 
with  the  voices  growing  faint  and  fainter  as 
the  Reindeer  slipped  on  through  the  darkness 
toward  San  Rafael,  I  must  say  I  was  not  in 
quite  the  proper  situation  to  enjoy  my  smil 
ing  future.  With  the  Reindeer  went  my  last 
hope.  What  was  to  happen  next  I  could  not 
imagine,  for  the  Chinese  were  a  different 
race  from  mine,  and  from  what  I  knew  I  was 
confident  that  fair  play  was  no  part  of  their 
make-up. 

After  waiting  a  few  minutes  longer,  the 
crew  hoisted  the  lateen  sail,  and  Yellow 
Handkerchief  steered  down  toward  the  mouth 
of  San  Rafael  Creek.  The  tide  was  getting 
lower,  and  he  had  difficulty  in  escaping  the 
mud-banks.  I  was  hoping  he  would  run 


226     YELLOW    HANDKERCHIEF 

aground,  but  he  succeeded  in  making  the 
Bay  without  accident. 

As  we  passed  out  of  the  creek  a  noisy  dis 
cussion  arose,  which  I  knew  related  to  me. 
Yellow  Handkerchief  was  vehement,  but  the 
other  four  as  vehemently  opposed  him.  It 
was  very  evident  that  he  advocated  doing 
away  with  me  and  that  they  were  afraid  of 
the  consequences.  I  was  familiar  enough 
with  the  Chinese  character  to  know  that  fear 
alone  restrained  them.  But  what  plan  they 
offered  in  place  of  Yellow  Handkerchiefs 
murderous  one,  I  could  not  make  out. 

My  feelings,  as  my  fate  hung  in  the  balance, 
may  be  guessed.  The  discussion  developed 
into  a  quarrel,  in  the  midst  of  which  Yellow 
Handkerchief  unshipped  the  heavy  tiller  and 
sprang  toward  me.  But  his  four  companions 
threw  themselves  between,  and  a  clumsy 
struggle  took  place  for  possession  of  the  tiller 


YELLOW    HANDKERCHIEF     227 

In  the  end  Yellow  Handkerchief  was  over 
come,  and  sullenly  returned  to  the  steering, 
while  they  soundly  berated  him  for  his 
rashness. 

Not  long  after,  the  sail  was  run  down  and 
the  junk  slowly  urged  forward  by  means  of 
the  sweeps.  I  felt  it  ground  gently  on  the 
soft  mud.  Three  of  the  Chinese  —  they  all 
wore  long  sea-boots  —  got  over  the  side,  and 
the  other  two  passed  me  across  the  rail.  With 
Yellow  Handkerchief  at  my  legs  and  his  two 
companions  at  my  shoulders,  they  began  to 
flounder  along  through  the  mud.  After 
some  time  their  feet  struck  firmer  footing, 
and  I  knew  they  were  carrying  me  up  some 
beach.  The  location  of  this  beach  was  not 
doubtful  in  my  mind.  It  could  be  none 
other  than  one  of  the  Marin  Islands,  a  group 
of  rocky  islets  which  lay  off  the  Marin  County 
shore. 


228     YELLOW    HANDKERCHIEF 

When  they  reached  the  firm  sand  that 
marked  high  tide,  1  was  dropped,  and  none 
too  gently.  Yellow  Handkerchief  kicked  me 
spitefully  in  the  ribs,  and  then  the  trio  floun 
dered  back  through  the  mud  to  the  junk.  A 
moment  later  I  heard  the  sail  go  up  and  slat 
in  the  wind  as  they  drew  in  the  sheet.  Then 
silence  fell,  and  I  was  left  to  my  own  devices 
for  getting  free. 

I  remembered  having  seen  tricksters 
writhe  and  squirm  out  of  ropes  with  which 
they  were  bound,  but  though  I  writhed  and 
squirmed  like  a  good  fellow,  the  knots  re 
mained  as  hard  as  ever,  and  there  was  no 
appreciable  slack.  In  the  course  of  my 
squirming,  however,  I  rolled  over  upon  a 
heap  of  clam-shells  —  the  remains,  evidently, 
of  some  yachting  party's  clam-bake.  This 
gave  me  an  idea.  My  hands  w^ere  tied  behind 
my  back;  and,  clutching  a  shell  in  them,  I 


YELLOW    HANDKERCHIEF     229 

rolled  over  and  over,  up  the  beach,  till  I  carne 
to  the  rocks  I  knew  to  be  there. 

Rolling  around  and  searching,  I  finally 
discovered  a  narrow  crevice,  into  which  I 
shoved  the  shell.  The  edge  of  it  was  sharp, 
and  across  the  sharp  edge  I  proceeded  to  saw 
the  rope  that  bound  my  wrists.  The  edge  of 
the  shell  was  also  brittle,  and  I  broke  it  by 
bearing  too  heavily  upon  it.  Then  I  rolled 
back  to  the  heap  and  returned  with  as  many 
shells  as  I  could  carry  in  both  hands.  I  broke 
many  shells,  cut  my  hands  a  number  of  times, 
and  got  cramps  in  my  legs  from  my  strained 
position  and  my  exertions. 

While  I  was  suffering  from  the  cramps, 
and  resting,  I  heard  a  familiar  halloo  drift 
across  the  water.  It  was  Charley,  searching 
for  me.  The  gag  in  my  mouth  prevented  me 
from  replying,  and  I  could  only  lie  there, 
helplessly  fuming,  while  he  rowed  past  the 


YELLOW    HANDKERCHIEF 

island  and  his  voice  slowly  lost  itself  in  the 
distance. 

I  returned  to  the  sawing  process,  and  at  the 
end  of  half  an  hour  succeeded  in  severing  the 
rope.  The  rest  was  easy.  My  hands  once 
free,  it  was  a  matter  of  minutes  to  loosen  my 
legs  and  to  take  the  gag  out  of  my  mouth. 
I  ran  around  the  island  to  make  sure  it  was 
an  island  and  not  by  any  chance  a  portion 
of  the  mainland.  An  island  it  certainly  was, 
one  of  the  Marin  group,  fringed  with  a  sandy 
beach  and  surrounded  by  a  sea  of  mud. 
Nothing  remained  but  to  wait  till  daylight 
and  to  keep  warm;  for  it  was  a  cold,  raw 
night  for  California,  with  just  enough  wind 
to  pierce  the  skin  and  cause  one  to  shiver. 

To  keep  up  the  circulation,  I  ran  around 
the  island  a  dozen  times  or  so,  and  clambered 
across  its  rocky  backbone  as  many  times  more 
—  all  of  which  was  of  greater  service  to  me, 


YELLOW   HANDKERCHIEF     231 

as  I  afterward  discovered,  than  merely  to 
warm  me  up.  In  the  midst  of  this  exercise 
I  wondered  if  I  had  lost  anything  out  of  my 
pockets  while  rolling  over  and  over  in  the 
sand.  A  search  showed  the  absence  of  my 
revolver  and  pocket-knife.  The  first  Yel 
low  Handkerchief  had  taken;  but  the  knife 
had  been  lost  in  the  sand. 

I  was  hunting  for  it  when  the  sound  of 
rowlocks  came  to  my  ears.  At  first,  of  course, 
I  thought  of  Charley;  but  on  second  thought 
I  knew  Charley  would  be  calling  out  as  he 
rowed  along.  A  sudden  premonition  of 
danger  seized  me.  The  Marin  Islands  are 
lonely  places;  chance  visitors  in  the  dead 
of  night  are  hardly  to  be  expected.  What 
if  it  were  Yellow  Handkerchief?  The  sound 
made  by  the  rowlocks  grew  more  distinct. 
I  crouched  in  the  sand  and  listened  intently. 
The  boat,  which  I  judged  a  small  skiff  from 


232     YELLOW    HANDKERCHIEF 

the  quick  stroke  of  the  oars,  was  landing  in 
the  mud  about  fifty  yards  up  the  beach.  I 
heard  a  raspy,  hacking  cough,  and  my  heart 
stood  still.  It  was  Yellow  Handkerchief. 
Not  to  be  robbed  of  his  revenge  by  his  more 
cautious  companions,  he  had  stolen  away 
from  the  village  and  come  back  alone. 

I  did  some  swift  thinking.  I  was  unarmed 
and  helpless  on  a  tiny  islet,  and  a  yellow  bar 
barian,  whom  I  had  reason  to  fear,  was 
coming  after  me.  Any  place  was  safer  than 
the  island,  and  I  turned  instinctively  to  the 
water,  or  rather  to  the  mud.  As  he  began 
to  flounder  ashore  through  the  mud,  I  started 
to  flounder  out  into  it,  going  over  the  same 
course  which  the  Chinese  had  taken  in  land 
ing  me  and  in  returning  to  the  junk. 

Yellow  Handkerchief,  believing  me  to  be 
lying  tightly  bound,  exercised  no  care,  but 
came  ashore  noisily.  This  helped  me,  for, 


YELLOW   HANDKERCHIEF     233 

under  the  shield  of  his  noise  and  making  no 
more  myself  than  necessary,  I  managed  ta 
cover  fifty  feet  by  the  time  he  had  made  the 
beach.  Here  I  lay  down  in  the  mud.  It 
was  cold  and  clammy,  and  made  me  shiver, 
but  I  did  not  care  to  stand  up  and  run 
the  risk  of  being  discovered  by  his  sharp 
eyes. 

He  walked  down  the  beach  straight  ta 
where  he  had  left  me  lying,  and  I  had  a  fleet 
ing  feeling  of  regret  at  not  being  able  to  see 
his  suiprise  when  he  did  not  find  me.  But 
it  was  a  very  fleeting  regret,  for  my  teeth  were 
chattering  with  the  cold. 

What  his  movements  were  after  that  I  had 
largely  to  deduce  from  the  facts  of  the  situa 
tion,  for  I  could  scarcely  see  him  in  the  dim 
starlight.  But  I  was  sure  that  the  first  thing 
he  did  was  to  make  the  circuit  of  the  beach  to 
learn  if  landings  had  been  made  by  other 


YELLOW   HANDKERCHIEF 

boats.  This  he  would  have  known  at  once 
by  the  tracks  through  the  mud. 

Convinced  that  no  boat  had  removed  me 
from  the  island,  he  next  started  to  find  out 
what  had  become  of  me.  Beginning  at  the 
pile  of  clam-shells,  he  lighted  matches  to  trace 
my  tracks  in  the  sand.  At  such  times  I 
could  see  his  villanous  face  plainly,  and, 
when  the  sulphur  from  the  matches  irritated 
his  lungs,  between  the  raspy  cough  that  fol 
lowed  and  the  clammy  mud  in  which  I  was 
lying,  I  confess  I  shivered  harder  than  ever. 

The  multiplicity  of  my  footprints  puzzled 
him.  Then  the  idea  that  I  might  be  out  in 
the  mud  must  have  struck  him,  for  he  waded 
out  a  few  yards  in  my  direction,  and,  stooping, 
with  his  eyes  searched  the  dim  surface  long 
and  carefully.  He  could  not  have  been  more 
than  fifteen  feet  from  me,  and  had  he  lighted 
a  match  he  would  surely  have  discovered  me. 


YELLOW    HANDKERCHIEF     235 

He  returned  to  the  beach  and  clambered 
about  over  the  rocky  backbone,  again  hunt 
ing  for  me  with  lighted  matches.  The  close 
ness  of  the  shave  impelled  me  to  further  flight. 
Not  daring  to  wade  upright,  on  account  of 
the  noise  made  by  floundering  and  by  the 
suck  of  the  mud,  I  remained  lying  down  in 
the  mud  and  propelled  myself  over  its  sur 
face  by  means  of  my  hands.  Still  keeping 
the  trail  made  by  the  Chinese  in  going  from 
and  to  the  junk,  I  held  on  until  I  reached  the 
water.  Into  this  I  waded  to  a  depth  of  three 
feet,  and  then  I  turned  off  to  the  side  on  a 
line  parallel  with  the  beach. 

The  thought  came  to  me  of  going  toward 
Yellow  Handkerchiefs  skifF  and  escaping  in 
it,  but  at  that  very  moment  he  returned  to  the 
beach,  and,  as  though  fearing  the  very  thing 
I  had  in  mind,  he  slushed  out  through  the 
mud  to  assure  himself  that  the  skifF  was  safe. 


236     YELLOW    HANDKERCHIEF 

This  turned  me  in  the  opposite  direction. 
Half  swimming,  half  wading,  with  my  head 
just  out  of  water  and  avoiding  splashing,  I 
succeeded  in  putting  about  a  hundred  feet 
between  myself  and  the  spot  where  the 
Chinese  had  begun  to  wade  ashore  from  the 
junk.  I  drew  myself  out  on  the  mud  and 
remained  lying  flat. 

Again  Yellow  Handkerchief  returned  to  the 
beach  and  made  a  search  of  the  island,  and 
again  he  returned  to  the  heap  of  clam-shells. 
I  knew  what  was  running  in  his  mind  as  well 
as  he  did  himself.  No  one  could  leave  or 
land  without  making  tracks  in  the  mud.  The 
only  tracks  to  be  seen  were  those  leading 
from  his  skiff  and  from  where  the  junk  had 
been.  I  was  not  on  the  island.  I  must  have 
left  it  by  one  or  the  other  of  those  two  tracks. 
He  had  just  been  over  the  one  to  his  skiff,  and 
was  certain  I  had  not  left  that  way.  There- 


YELLOW    HANDKERCHIEF     237 

fore  I  could  have  left  the  island  only  by  going 
over  the  tracks  of  the  junk  landing.  This 
he  proceeded  to  verify  by  wading  out  over 
them  himself,  lighting  matches  as  he  came 
along. 

When  he  arrived  at  the  point  where  I  had 
first  lain,  I  knew,  by  the  matches  he  burned 
and  the  time  he  took,  that  he  had  discovered 
the  marks  left  by  my  body.  These  he  fol 
lowed  straight  to  the  water  and  into  it,  but 
in  three  feet  of  water  he  could  no  longer  see 
them.  On  the  other  hand,  as  the  tide  was 
still  falling,  he  could  easily  make  out  the 
impression  made  by  the  junk's  bow,  and 
could  have  likewise  made  out  the  impression 
of  any  other  boat  if  it  had  landed  at  that  par 
ticular  spot.  But  there  was  no  such  mark; 
and  I  knew  that  he  was  absolutely  convinced 
that  I  was  hiding  somewhere  in  the  mud. 

But  to  hunt  on  a  dark  night  for  a  boy  in  a 


238     YELLOW    HANDKERCHIEF 

sea  of  mud  would  be  like  hunting  for  a  needle 
in  a  haystack,  and  he  did  not  attempt  it.  In 
stead  he  went  back  to  the  beach  and  prowled 
around  for  some  time.  I  was  hoping  he 
would  give  me  up  and  go,  for  by  this  time 
I  was  suffering  severely  from  the  cold.  At 
last  he  waded  out  to  his  skiff  and  rowed  away. 
What  if  this  departure  of  Yellow  Handker 
chief's  were  a  sham  ?  What  if  he  had  done 
it  merely  to  entice  me  ashore  ? 

The  more  I  thought  of  it  the  more  certain  I 
became  that  he  had  made  a  little  too  much 
noise  with  his  oars  as  he  rowed  away.  So 
I  remained,  lying  in  the  mud  and  shivering. 
I  shivered  till  the  muscles  of  the  small  of  my 
back  ached  and  pained  me  as  badly  as  the 
cold,  and  I  had  need  of  all  my  self-control 
to  force  myself  to  remain  in  my  miserable 
situation. 

It  was  well  that  I  did,  however,  for,  pos- 


YELLOW    HANDKERCHIEF     239 

sibly  an  hour  later,  I  thought  I  could  make 
out  something  moving  on  the  beach.  I 
watched  intently,  but  my  ears  were  rewarded 
first,  by  a  raspy  cough  I  knew  only  too  well. 
Yellow  Handkerchief  had  sneaked  back, 
landed  on  the  other  side  of  the  island,  and 
crept  around  to  surprise  me  if  I  had  returned. 
After  that,  though  hours  passed  without 
sign  of  him,  I  was  afraid  to  return  to  the 
island  at  all.  On  the  other  hand,  I  was 
almost  equally  afraid  that  I  should  die  of 
the  exposure  I  was  undergoing.  I  had 
never  dreamed  one  could  suffer  so.  I  grew 
so  cold  and  numb,  finally,  that  I  ceased  to 
shiver.  But  my  muscles  and  bones  began  to 
ache  in  a  way  that  was  agony.  The  tide  had 
long  since  begun  to  rise,  and,  foot  by  foot,  it 
drove  me  in  toward  the  beach.  High  water 
came  at  three  o'clock,  and  at  three  o'clock  I 
drew  myself  up  on  the  beach,  more  dead  than 


24o     YELLOW   HANDKERCHIEF 

alive,  and  too  helpless  to  have  offered  any 
resistance  had  Yellow  Handkerchief  swooped 
down  upon  me. 

But  no  Yellow  Handkerchief  appeared. 
He  had  given  me  up  and  gone  back  to  Point 
Pedro.  Nevertheless,  I  was  in  a  deplorable, 
not  to  say  a  dangerous,  condition.  I  could 
not  stand  upon  my  feet,  much  less  w^alk.  My 
clammy,  muddy  garments  clung  to  me  like 
sheets  of  ice.  I  thought  I  should  never  get 
them  off.  So  numb  and  lifeless  were  my 
fingers,  and  so  weak  was  I,  that  it  seemed 
to  take  an  hour  to  get  off  my  shoes.  I  had  not 
the  strength  to  break  the  porpoise-hide  laces, 
and  the  knots  defied  me.  I  repeatedly  beat 
my  hands  upon  the  rocks  to  get  some  sort  of 
life  into  them.  Sometimes  I  felt  sure  I  was 
going  to  die. 

But  in  the  end,  —  after  several  centuries, 
it  seemed  to  me,  —  I  got  off  the  last  of  my 


YELLOW   HANDKERCHIEF     241 

clothes.  The  water  was  now  close  at  hand, 
and  I  crawled  painfully  into  it  and  washed 
the  mud  from  my  naked  body.  Still,  I 
could  not  get  on  my  feet  and  walk  and  I  was 
afraid  to  lie  still.  Nothing  remained  but  to 
crawl  weakly,  like  a  snail,  and  at  the  cost 
of  constant  pain,  up  and  down  the  sand» 
I  kept  this  up  as  long  as  possible,  but  as  the 
east  paled  with  the  coming  of  dawn  I  began 
to  succumb.  The  sky  grew  rosy-red,  and 
the  golden  rim  of  the  sun,  showing  above  the 
horizon,  found  me  lying  helpless  and  motion 
less  among  the  clam-shells. 

As  in  a  dream,  I  saw  the  familiar  mainsail 
of  the  Reindeer  as  she  slipped  out  of  San 
Rafael  Creek  on  a  light  puff  of  morning  air. 
This  dream  was  very  much  broken.  There 
are  intervals  I  can  never  recollect  on  looking 
back  over  it.  Three  things,  however,  I  dis 
tinctly  remember :  the  first  sight  of  the  Rein- 


YELLOW   HANDKERCHIEF 

deer  s  mainsail;  her  lying  at  anchor  a  few 
hundred  feet  away  and  a  small  boat  leaving 
her  side ;  and  the  cabin  stove  roaring  red-hot, 
myself  swathed  all  over  with  blankets,  except 
on  the  chest  and  shoulders,  which  Charley 
was  pounding  and  mauling  unmercifully,  and 
my  mouth  and  throat  burning  with  the  coffee 
which  Neil  Partington  was  pouring  down  a 
trifle  too  hot. 

But  burn  or  no  burn,  I  tell  you  it  felt  good. 
By  the  time  we  arrived  in  Oakland  I  was  as 
limber  and  strong  as  ever,  —  though  Charley 
and  Neil  Partington  were  afraid  I  was  going 
to  have  pneumonia,  and  Mrs.  Partington, 
for  my  first  six  months  of  school,  kept  an 
anxious  eye  upon  me  to  discover  the  first 
symptoms  of  consumption. 

Time  flies.  It  seems  but  yesterday  that 
I  was  a  lad  of  sixteen  on  the  fish  patrol. 
Yet  I  know  that  I  arrived  this  very  morning 


YELLOW   HANDKERCHIEF     243 

from  China,  with  a  quick  passage  to  my  credit, 
and  master  of  the  barkentine  Harvester. 
And  I  know  that  to-morrow  morning  I  shall 
run  over  to  Oakland  to  see  Neil  Partington 
and  his  wife  and  family,  and  later  on  up  to 
Benicia  to  see  Charley  Le  Grant  and  talk 
over  old  times.  No ;  I  shall  not  go  to  Benicia, 
now  that  I  think  about  it.  I  expect  to  be  a 
highly  interested  party  to  a  wedding,  shortly 
to  take  place.  Her  name  is  Alice  Partington, 
and,  since  Charley  has  promised  to  be  best 
man,  he  will  have  to  come  down  to  Oakland 
instead. 


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